


Shattered

by Nuideas



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Violence, Brothers, Bruce Wayne Tries, Daddy-Bats, Dick Grayson-centric, Dogs, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, Family Bonding, Friendship, Humor, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Humor, Jason Todd Tries, Jason Todd’s Morbid Humor, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 53,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25555081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nuideas/pseuds/Nuideas
Summary: Years after Kid Flash's tragic demise, information is found that the beloved speedster is still alive - and in enemy hands! The original team come together in order to rescue him, but the cost of doing so turns out to be much higher than any of them could have imagined . . . And for one of them, life will never be the same.
Comments: 58
Kudos: 137





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the story's co-creator, Goingdownwithmyshipz, from whose mind this idea was originally birthed. Life has become too complicated to allow her to continue and so, she has graciously allowed me to take over the writing of this story alone.

The air ducts of the Al Ghul palace weren’t designed to accommodate a grown man’s body. Since Jason wasn’t exactly lean of build, moving his large frame through them was a struggle. Worry that he might actually get stuck in the ducts was a real concern. It was difficult blocking out that small voice in his head that panicked at being confined, reminding him of old dreams of being trapped in a dark, damp coffin reeking of rot and death. Memories of nightmares, of ripping nails while trying to claw his way out of the wooden box.

His lungs screamed for air in spite it being plentiful. His mind _knew_ it was plentiful. His damned psyche, however, was trying its best to suffocate him. Jason wanted to shout but he couldn’t – at least, not without risking discovery.

Shaking his head, Jason attempted to free himself of his irrational fear. It was years ago, another lifetime – literally.

Jay snorted quietly at his thoughts. The memories of his death haunted him still, hitting him at the most inconvenient of times, _like when trying to crawl through air ducts of an enemy’s compound_.

Shoving all that history back into a trunk stashed deep in the back of his mind, Jason refused to relive the tortures he had experienced at the hands of that blasted clown another minute. He had spent too many nights waking up to the sound of Joker’s laughter rattling around in his head. Even now, he would sometimes have to fight off the phantom pain of broken bones and flashbacks of the excruciating bite of that clown’s damned crowbar.

No more! The only way Jason could think of to banish his torment was through revenge. Batman had stopped him once before, but there was no one to stop him now. Unable to let it go, Jason researched as to why Joker had been in Africa in the first place. The discovery had led Jason here, to Ra’s al Ghul’s Middle Eastern compound.

It had been Ra's’ fault . . . _All of it_! That he had been at the untender mercy of that clown, his torture, his murder, the fucking indignity of being dragged out of his grave only to be tossed into the cursed Lazarus Pit. He had been reborn into madness then abandoned by the bastard, left alone to fight his way back to some hazy semblance of sanity.

To this day, Jason was tormented by what he had done while engulfed in the madness, haunted by the memories of his failed attempt to murder the only man willing to be a father to him, of tearing a bloody path through Gotham, the carnage of his passing the proof of his return. And Joker.

Laughing, always laughing, but this time his mirth had been over what Jason had become - a pathetic excuse of a human being, a half-crazed murderer, no better than the psychopath that had ended his life at the end of a crowbar. The mad clown had been smug when talking of what Jason had wrought upon his return, the blood on Jason’s hands being a mere extension of the maniac’s own. Was that a bit of paternal pride in his voice? Just the thought made Jay want to puke.

Why couldn’t he have just been left in the ground, dead, like he was meant to be? His life, and everything related to it, was now in shambles.

Once the Pit’s madness had quelled and he had been able to think clearly, Jason had discovered all the pain that had occurred in time between his death and his resurrection. He had apparently been replaced with a new Robin while he had been gone. Dick Grayson, the first Robin, the guy he had just begun to think of as maybe a brother before he had kicked it, was wallowing in grief over the death of his best friend, unable to pull himself out of his funk.

It was pitiful, really . . . Three years and the guy was nearly in as bad a shape as Jason had been. Nightwing had practically saved the earth single-handedly and yet Dickhead was paralyzed with guilt, all because of a few lies. People actually had the gall to nitpick over how he did it. But then, Dick was always one to take all the responsibility onto his own shoulders. The guy obviously had some kind of complex or something. Jason was sure he could blame it on Bruce with only a little effort.

 _Bruce_ . . . Jason cringed when he remembered facing Batman in that abandoned apartment with the Joker bound on the floor at their feet. Thinking back, he should have gagged the psychopath while he had been at it. It likely wouldn’t have taken so long for the madness to have recede from his mind if he had. At that point, Jason had realized what he had been asking Bruce to do, to go against the one unbreakable rule the man had in his obsessive quest for justice, the one thing he had ground into him from day one - into _all_ of them: Dick, Jason, and likely the replacement, too.

He had run then, fleeing like a coward. He hadn’t known where he’d been going - just away, from the apartment, from the Joker, from Batman . . . from his shame. Ironically, where he had ended up had been hunkering in the filth of Crime Alley, the very place where his life had once begun. He had traveled full circle.

Of all the people who might have found him - who, perhaps, _should_ have found him - in the end, it had been Artemis.

She hadn’t questioned how Jason had come back, but rather had taken him back to her and Wally’s old apartment, cleaning him up and feeding him. As Jason recuperated, Artemis had gone on to explain to him all that had happened while he had been . . . away.

Everything . . . How Tim had become the next Robin, how the world had almost been ended by a plot that Vandal Savage, with the help of Lex Luthor and Ra’s, had created in order to rule - _Get this!_ _The galaxy -_ by framing the Justice League and manipulating an alien race.

The good guys had won, of course, through the strategic planning of Nightwing and Aqualad, but the plan had nearly gone awry. If not for Kid Flash’s sacrifice, the world would have ended for everyone. Instead, it had only ended for Artemis.

And for Wally's best friend.

Dick had been crippled with grief and guilt after that, as though losing the speedster had been the final straw. He blamed himself in typical Dick fashion but, worse, the team had blamed him as well. As a result, Dick had quit, shutting himself off from everyone, throwing himself into his job as a cop for Bludhaven PD with reckless abandon. And if Nightwing appeared at times, the hero was shown to be sloppy, taking risks with his life that were worrisome to those who might have still cared about him.

Jason had decided that very night that everything that was wrong in the world, as well as the pain and suffering that he personally had endured, could be laid at the feet of the Demon’s Head. He had determined at that point that Ra’s would pay, with interest, for what he had wrought and that it would be Jason who would be handing the bastard his receipt.

A low growl rumbled in Jay's throat at the memories, spurring him forward through the too-tight air ducts until familiar voices grabbed his attention. Out of habit, Jason turned on his recorder as he followed them.

"Neither the detective nor his eldest have discovered Vandal's secret, I see."

 _Ra’s_ . . .

Focusing on that voice, Jason continued through the ventilation system to the source, listening intently to the words that were drifting through the vent. His heartrate increased and the dark stain on his soul lurched threatening to rip away Jason’s control. For one tense moment, it took every ounce of his strength to shove it back down, to hold the madness at bay as he strove for calm. He hadn't expected to find the demon himself. Perhaps the destruction of the compound was unnecessary if Jason could turn his attack into a surgical strike. He felt for his gun.

"Savage is playing his hand close to his chest, Father,” a woman said. _Talia_. “Even among those of the Light, very few know of the speedster’s return."

 _Speedster_?

Artemis had told him that Barry was still the Flash, still with the League.

 _There’s some new speedster, too, a kid from the future. Impulse, or some such title . . . Could they be talking about him_?

But no, he had heard reports about the new sidekick as recently as last week and knew the kid had taken Kid Flash’s place with the Young Justice team shortly after Wally’s death.

The vent cover was all that separated them. Jason angled himself so he could see the occupants in the room.

"Yes, yes, I am aware. Do the heroes mourn him still?" Ra's asked with mild curiosity.

"It would appear so. You know, Father,” Talia murmured, “if Savage manages to pull him free of the speed force, those heroes will be fighting their friend.”

“Hardly, daughter,” Ra’s corrected her.

“But the immortal claims that in only a few days he will have speedster in his possession,” she said. “Once that happens, it will merely be a matter of time before he is broken in both mind and spirit and then, he will be able to be molded into a soldier of the Light."

_What?_

“The young man has more value than that of a mere soldier,” Ra’s retorted, but he was interrupted by the opening of the door. A child, no older than five, entered at a run.

“'Am 'ana hazamah,” the boy said in Arabic.

“Wala bd li 'an 'adhkur lakum, Damian, 'ann al'abatirat la taemal,” Talia said, not unkindly.

“Aghfir li, al'umm,” the boy nodded.

The only word Jason could translate was ‘ _mother’_. He stifled a snort, wondering what poor bastard had been stupid enough to sleep with Talia. He pushed the boy aside as inconsequential in order to think about what he had just overheard. The two adults followed the child out of the room, unaware they just left their unseen guest reeling.

The speedster they were speaking of could have only been one person . . .

Jason scrambled to pull a couple of transmitters from his belt to leave behind. They were new technology he had picked up on his most recent scavenger hunt through Wayne-Tech’s R&D department. If Bruce was aware of Jason’s occasional forays through the department’s goodie bag of upgraded Bat-toys, he never let on. In any case, there might be a chance to catch some other tidbit before anyone was able to discover the foreign tech.

Ra’s should be thanking him. Jason had come here with the sole purpose of blow Ra’s and his entire compound to smithereens. At least, that had been the plan . . . _Now_ , however, Jason had discovered a new list of priorities with the top spot now being to find his brother.

Estranged or not, it was time for Dick to be dragged out of his self-imposed funk.


	2. Gung Bao Chicken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear your reactions in the comments if you care to share . . .  
> *******************************************************************************

Dick kicked the door shut behind him, dropping his keys on the side table. Groaning, he began to take off his vest. He relished the sound of the Velcro coming undone as it preceded the glorious feeling that came from losing six extra pounds. It dropped to the floor with a heavy thump. He unhooked the clasp of his duty belt next. He was setting it down next to his keys when the creaking of floorboards came to him.

Without conscious thought, Dick drew his handgun. By now, the weight of the Glock felt as natural to his hands as his escrima sticks and wing-dings. It was just as reassuring to him as he turned to face the whatever threat had broken into his apartment.

“Welcome home, asshole,” Jason said as he exited the kitchen, munching on Dick’s leftover Gung Bao Chicken. “You really need to go grocery store. This was the only thing edible left in your fridge. Oh yeah, and you’re going to need more beer, too.” He belched.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” Dick growled. He was hungry and tired. All he had wanted to do was eat his Chinese leftovers and crash until it was time to patrol tonight. He did not have the patience to deal with Jason, his homicidal brother recently back from the dead.

Still holding his weapon on him, Dick snapped, “You ate my dinner and drank my beer. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t put a hole in your chest right now.”

Jason eyed the gun a second before tossing the empty carton into the trashcan across from him. “I’m unarmed,” he announced, holding his arms out from his sides.

After staring at him for long minute, Dick finally shoved his gun back into its holster. “How’d you get in here?”

Jason snorted. “You live in a crap-hole with no security and you can still ask me that? This place makes my place look like the Ritz Carlton.”

Dick glared.

Rolling his eyes, Jay pointed behind him with his thumb. “The window.”

Shoving past him, Dick walked over to the table by the window. There was a footprint in the middle of it. “You left a boot print on my table,” he complained. “I eat off of that table.”

“Not today,” Jason snorted. “You don’t have anything left to eat in your kitchen. I know; I checked.”

“I _had_ leftovers,” Dick snapped.

“And they were delicious, btw,” Jay grinned. “You have the address of the restaurant? I might pick some more up on my way home.”

“Fuck off,” Dick grumbled as he checked the lock.

“I didn’t break it; I just used my knife to unlock it,” Jay sighed. “My dead grandmother could have broken into this place. BPD must pay you shit if this is all you can afford. You should hit up DaddyBats for a loan, then maybe you could afford a fucking chain for your door.”

Opening the window, Dick waved a hand towards the fire escape. “My security is just fine. Now, get out!”

“Is that any way to treat your un-dead brother? Didn’t you miss me, Dickie-bird?” Jason asked, slapping a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“Last time I saw you, I ended up with a broken leg,” Dick answered shortly. “We can give it a couple of decades, but the answer will still be the same.”

“Aw, don’t be that way. I’m only here to do you a favor, Dickhead. You might try showing some appreciation.” Jason grinned.

“No thanks,” Dick snapped. “Any more help from you and _I’d_ be the one in the grave.”

Jay frowned at the grave reference. “Not my fault, Dick-for-brains. You shouldn’t have gotten in the way.” He shrugged. “Besides, it wasn’t like I didn’t apologize for the leg later.”

“Drawing a penis on my cast with ‘sorry’ scrawled beneath it in crayon while I was sleeping off painkillers is not my idea of an apology,” Dick scowled. “Look, Jason, I’ve had a shitty day. I’m tired and I want to go to bed. So, you can either leave peacefully, or I can throw your scrawny ass in jail.”

“Scrawny!?” Jason craned his neck to look at his backside. “It’s not scrawny! You wound me, Dickie. That hurt.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It seemed a shame to come all this way and not see which of them was the better fighter first. Soon enough, Dickhead would be loving him again after Jason gave him the news about Wally, but never once had Jason been able to take his brother down before his untimely demise.

The leg-thing had been an accident. He's been aiming for Bruce, so that time didn’t count. With the golden boy finally healed up, it seemed as good a time as any for them to have a little fun. Jason had gotten a lot more experience since his resurrection, and he was ready for a rematch. Since Dickweed was already tired, hungry, and cranky, it should be easy to provoke him into losing his temper.

“With that attitude, I believe I understand why it is you’re living in this hovel all alone.”

Not rising to the bait, Dick sighed. “All I want at the moment is to be left alone. Have you always been this slow? Because I’m still waiting for you to take the hint and leave.”

“So, where’s Barbie? I’m surprised she’s not here to welcome you home,” Jay quipped. “Then again, who’d want to hang out in this dump waiting for a loser like you?”

Dick’s on-again/off-again relationship with the commissioner’s daughter was a sure-fire way to poke the bear. Jason knew the couple was currently off-again _and_ that the breakup hadn’t been Dickhead’s idea. Barbara had broken it off when she went away to pursue her master’s in computer science. That had to have stung.

His brother’s face darkened in response. “Get out!” he growled.

There, that was the reaction he's been waiting for. Oh yeah, it shouldn’t be too hard to get big bro into throwing around a punch or two with a little more provocation.

“I must say, I’m surprised Daddy lets his golden boy live in such squalor. Has Bruce finally wised up to you? Has the shine rubbed off during the last few years?” Jason taunted. “Does it hurt knowing Bruce doesn’t love you anymore?”

“Would you like to leave on your own two feet, or would you prefer to be carried out like the rest of the garbage?” Dick asked, the warning in his voice was clear. Jason was treading on shaky ground.

“Or did he kick you out before you could get him killed . . . like you did for your old buddy, West?”

Okay, so he felt a little guilty bringing up Wally knowing Dick blamed himself for his friend’s death, but Jason was just about to share the happy news with him. He figured he might as well milk it while he could. Dickhead would forgive him for this later.

Why, you little shit,” Dick took several steps forward menacingly.

“Did I hit a nerve?”

In the meantime, Jay thought sparring would do his brother some good, help him relieve a bit of that stress he could see in the lines on his face. Seriously, Dick was too young to be showing signs of strain this early in his life.

“What’s the matter? The guilt too heavy for you?” Jay asked as he circled around the other. A wiser man would be beating feet out of here, but this was Jason. The closest thing he had ever gotten to that was when someone would accuse him of being a smartass.

"Why didn’t you save him, Dick? Why didn’t you save me for that matter? What were you doing all those times while the people around you were dying? Let me guess . . . chasing skirts?”

Dick gave up getting Jason to leave by the window. He headed for the door.

“You’re so pathetic,” he sneered. “So desperate for a little love you fall between any pair of open thighs.”

Dick paused, one hand on the doorknob. “Fuck you, Jason.”

His brother had the patience of a saint or a fuse as long as time. Even from behind it was becoming obvious that this volcano was about to blow. One more stab ought to do it.

“You’re a failure! As pitiful an excuse for a brother as you were a friend,” Jason taunted, swallowing back a some of his own guilt for hitting him so far below the belt. But that was Dick’s fault for being so hard to goad. “And as worthless as you were as a son.”

Dick’s hand left the doorknob, moving up to flick the deadbolt. Jason realized he may have overstepped his bounds when he heard the lock click into place. Too late now to beat a hasty retreat. _Hoo boy_!

 _Here we go_. Jason cracked his knuckles in anticipation, relishing the battle to come.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick slammed into him so fast Jason hadn’t seen him coming. One second, Dick had been there, heaving in rage, and the next, the two of them went tumbling over the back of the couch. They landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs and flying fists. Jay was impressed. Dickweed’s fist smashed into his face hard enough to actually hurt.

Jason laughed through the pain. “You hit like a girl!”

He thought Dick’s next punch might have loosened a molar.

“No wonder the people around you die. You fight like an old woman,” Jay goaded.

Blocking the next blow, he countered with one of his own. Jason thought he might have heard cartilage snap as Dick’s head jerked to the side. If he felt it, however, Dick gave no indication. He rolled off Jason, staggering to his feet.

Jay climbed to his own, having to catch himself with a hand to the wall when his knees went weak beneath him. Having as much trouble with his own balance, Dick didn’t notice Jason wavering.

“I don’t know why I bothered coming here,” Jason blurted once he cleared his mouth of blood. He paused to check – _Nope. No tooth, just blood. Good._ He worked his jaw side to side. “It’s obvious you wouldn’t be able to help me save Wally when you’re incapable of even saving yourself. Too bad. Looks like you’re going to let him down yet again. Pathetic.”

Dick gingerly ran the back of his arm across his face in an effort to stem the blood flowing from his nose. The swelling was already evident that it had been broken. Jason grinned. The asshole is still too fucking pretty, he thought to himself. He would have to do something about that . . . Later, though. Their tussle had produced no clear winner yet.

“You’re obviously undependable,” Jason sneered. He still remembered which buttons to push to get a reaction. “I’m going to have to find someone else who won’t buckle under pressure, otherwise, the Wall-man will be facing a fate worse than death this time around.”

Dick blinked as Jason's blathering began to penetrate the red haze surrounding his brain.

“What the hell are you talking about? You don’t know shit! You missed out on everything because you let Joker get the best of you. Still crying over the fact that nobody was there to rescue you, Jay? Could it be because nobody _wanted_ to?”

 _Ouch_! As far as insults went, that one was pretty good . . . really good, even. Amusement faded as his own anger, never far from the surface, came bubbling up from Jason’s blackened soul.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“If you had been a decent Robin,” Dick continued, “Batman wouldn’t have had to risk his life night after night having to save your ass. How many times did Bruce almost die on _your_ watch, huh, Jay? All because you don’t know how to follow orders. You never followed orders and look where it got you. Maybe the only reason Bruce is alive today is because Joker did him fav – **_Oof_**!”

Jason rammed his shoulder into Dick’s solar plexus with enough force to knock the wind out of him. What was left of his couch collapsed as the pair toppled over it to crash into the coffee table. The piece of furniture shattered under their combined weight.

Batman would have been disgusted with them. There was no technique in the wild punches being thrown. One minute, Dick was on top, the next Jason as the two men growled and snarled at one another like rabid dogs, allowing their tempers and injured feelings to rule their heads.

Admittedly, it also said a lot about Dick’s neighborhood that no one cared two people were trying to beat one another to death inside of his apartment.

Pinned momentarily beneath his younger sibling, Dick used his flexibility to sling his legs around Jay’s head, thrusting his brother back and off of him. As Dick attempted to regain his feet, one of Jason’s boots caught him in the shoulder. Rolled with the kick, Dick came up swaying. His shirt was drenched from his bloodied nose, but Jason looked no better. The younger man’s eye and jaw was swollen and blood trickled from the side of his mouth.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason shook his head and then shook it again. He was seeing double. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to determine which of the two assholes he was looking at was the real one, the Dick on his right or the Dick on his left. Both were panting from their efforts. Jay’s ribs were screaming at him, but the golden child was holding his shoulder.

Could he count this as a win?

He paused to consider it. Both were the worse for wear . . . Then, Jay’s damned conscience had to go and ask another question, a more pertinent one.

 _What am I doing here_? _When had this become about my pride rather than doing what was right_?

Jason decided he was an idiot . . . not that he’d ever admit that to Goldie.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick stumbled back into the refrigerator, his hand searching blindly for a steady handhold. He stared at Jason, refusing to look away in case his little brother decided he wanted to finish the job. Dick wouldn’t put it past him . . . The Lazarus Pit had brought back Jay's body, but it had scrambled his mind.

 _Although, at the moment_ , he thought, _Jay doesn't_ _look capable of doing more than staying conscious._ The younger man was currently blinking off in the direction somewhere past Dick’s shoulder.

As he watched, Jason stumbled over the remains of his coffee table before landing on his ass. When his hardheaded brother didn’t bother trying to get back up, Dick allowed himself to relax enough to unlock his knees, sliding to the floor. They stared at one another for a few moments until Dick’s brain began to work again. Something Jason had said earlier began demanding attention.

“What did you mean by that,” he asked.

“By what?” Jay asked, sounding like he had a mouthful of cotton.

“You said you needed help to save Wally? Wally’s dead. I know you know that.”

Instead of answering, Jason fumbled for something in his pocket, causing Dick to stiffen in reaction. Although Jay had said he came unarmed, Dick was certain that was a lie. Jay never went anywhere without a weapon somewhere on his person. Pulling his feet up, Dick prepared to move quickly should Jason try pull a gun on him. His eyes flicked toward the end table where he’d left his own weapon.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Jason grumbled. “I’m not quite as bad as you seem to think I am.” He opened his hand to reveal a tiny recording device.

Dick frowned. What game was his little brother playing now?

“Don’t speak. Just listen,” Jay said as he pressed play.

Talia’s voice filled the apartment.

‘ _Savage is playing his hand close to his chest, Father. Even among those of the Light, very few know of the speedster’s return.’_

Dick felt his heart skip a beat then pound in response. “What . . .?” he started to ask when the voice continued. 

‘ _Savage claims that in only a few days, he will have the speedster in his possession. Once that happens, it will merely be a matter of time before he is broken in both mind and spirit, and then he can be molded into a soldier of the Light.’_

Dick shook his head. “That’s not possible. I was there, Jay, I _saw_ Wally die . . . I was right there!”

“You saw wrong.”

“W-Wally’s alive?” His voice broke as a tear escaped, sliding down his cheek. “Oh God! I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Ew,” Jay wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

 _How could this have happened_? _I didn’t think to check. Didn’t think Wally might have still been alive, only transported somewhere else_.

“Where in the hell has he been all this time?”

 _Was he hurt_? _Had he been suffering_?

Jason shrugged. “Someplace called the Speed Force. I don’t know all the details, just I just thought it might be something you’d be interested in knowing,”

Dick stared at him. _Was the little prick finally being sincere for once in his life_?

He had heard Wally mention the Speed Force before. But Wally had talked about it as though it had been some kind of ‘thing’ - not a place. If what Talia said on the recording was true, it was more like some kind of place . . . A place that Wally had been trapped in for the last three years!

“There’s a lot more,” Jason told him. “This bit is already a week old.”

“How did you get it?” Dick asked, pointing at the recorder.

“Just lucky, I guess,” Jay mumbled. “You know how it is, right place, right time.”

 _Too pat of an answer,_ Dick thought suspiciously. “Talia isn’t stupid. She’d have never talked this freely in public. She would have had to feel secure.”

“Does it matter? I found this and thought it was something you’d want to hear,” Jay blurted defensively.

For the first time in a long time, Dick smiled. “Why didn’t you just play this for me as soon as I walked through the door?”

Jason laughed, grimacing as the movement pulled his mouth painfully. “And miss the chance to punch you in the face? Now, where’s the fun in that?”

“Dumbass,” Dick snorted, then winced, touching his nose gingerly. “Next time, try leading off with the recording.”

“Whatever. Spoilsport.” Jason gently ran a hand over his swollen jaw. “You got any ice?”

“No.”

“Liar. You’re a sore loser,” Jason accused.

“Who says I lost?”

Climbing to his feet, Dick leaned against the refrigerator until the room stopped spinning. There was a shit-ton to do tonight and he still needed to shower and change. “The ice is in the freezer. You want it, you’ve got to get up and get it yourself.”

Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You say that like you don’t think I can.”

Bracing a hand on the wall, Dick staggered to his bedroom, laughing as he did so. “Just don’t get too comfortable on my floor. We’ve got places to go tonight and people to see.”

“We? Who’s we? I did my part. I’m not going anywhere but home.” Jason muttered.

“No,” Dick said, glancing back over his shoulder, “because now you are going to help me get him back.”

“Just the two of us?” Jason looked skeptical. “How’s that going to work? We can’t even be in the same room together.”

“You, me – and the team,” Dick called out from the other room. “Be ready to go in ten.”

“If you’ve got the team, then why the hell do you need me?” Jay yelled back.

“If you didn’t want to help, then I guess you shouldn’t have eaten my Gung Bao chicken,” Dick hollered back, his voice rising over the sound of running water.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jason dropped his head back against the broken arm of the couch with a sigh and glared at the ceiling.

 _The chicken hadn’t been_ that _great, damn it_. He would have much preferred the sweet and sour pork.

Knowing he wouldn’t’ be heard over the sound of the water running, Jason allowed himself to groan in resignation. _Fate is a bitch_ . . .

“Well . . . fuck.”


	3. Star City

Jason was leaning against the fridge with a bag of frozen peas pressed against his face when Dick appeared ten minutes later, freshly showered, in jeans, converses, and light blue jersey.

“Don’t say a fucking word, Dickhead” Jason growled. He tossed the bag on the counter as he followed Dick to the door.

“Who, me? Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dick smirked, pausing to lock up.

Although it hurt, Jason laughed anyway. “I don’t know why you bother. That lock won't keep out the scum.”

"The lock's fine. It kept you out, didn't it?"

"Only because I came in through the window," Jason muttered as they went down the building's dimly lit stairs.

The two fell into step as they walked to the nearest zeta tube a couple of blocks away. Minutes later, an uncomfortable silence settling between them as they stood in front of an abandoned phone booth.

Jay shook his head. “Nobody uses these relics anymore,” he muttered.

“That’s exactly the point. We don’t want anyone to use it,” Dick answered, stepping into the booth first.

He noted the look of discomfort on Jason’s face, wondering at it before disappearing in a flash of alien light. It wasn’t until Dick stepped out of a rundown, instant-photo booth in a back alley that the reason became clear.

 _Robin. B-One Three,_ the computer chimed. Dick winced as he watched Jason materialize.

“Oh man,” Dick snickered into his hand. “I forgot about that.”

“Shut it, Dickwad. I expect that to be fixed later.” Jason brushed past him. He shook his head and muttered under his breath, “I’m surprised it was still in there after all these years.”

Slapping him on the shoulder good-naturedly, Dick found his irritation at having his evening interrupted had disappeared with Jason’s news. “Who could ever take your place?”

Jason snorted and rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. What are you calling that new kid again?”

He sped up, allowing his brother’s hand to fall away. Dick grinned at the reversal of their moods as he moved to catch up.

“Don’t be that way. Tim’s a good kid and worked hard for the title,” Dick told him. “He never intended to replace you.”

“And yet . . .”

“You really miss the short, scaly Underoos that badly, Jaybird?” he teased.

Jay grunted. “When you put it like that? No. What the hell were you thinking wearing that shit anyway? That costume was freezing in the winter and that leotard thing would ride up my ass during the middle of fights.”

Dick laughed. “I was raised in a circus. It was what I knew and was comfortable with.”

“Comfortable?” Jason scoffed. “Circus freak.”

“I was _nine_! Give me a break,” Dick said, defending his choice. “Bruce let me design my own costume. I’m certain he would have let you design your own, too. He did for Tim.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hunching his shoulders, Jason huffed, ready for this conversation to end. Last thing he wanted to do was admit to Goldie the real reason he had chosen to keep the original costume. He had been given the chance to make changes to it, but Jason had had a little hero-worship going on himself back in the day. He had wanted Dick’s costume because he felt like it had been the real deal having belonged to the original Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye at his brother, Jay admitted, albeit reluctantly, that Dick still was the real deal. He wondered if he would always be scrambling to play catch up with him.

“So, where the hell are you taking me?”

“To see a friend,” Dick told him.

Jason glanced around him, paying more attention this time. “I thought I knew where you were taking me, but this isn’t Gotham.”

“This is Star City.”

“We’re going to see Roy? I knew you three were close but I kind of thought we’d go to Artemis’s place first.” Jason frowned.

“We are. Artemis moved to Star City a year ago for a new job. Who else would deserve to learn the news first?” Dick smiled. “Oh, and by the way, Roy goes by Will now. Long story.” 

“Right. Yeah, I’ve heard it already. I just keep forgetting.” Jay felt the edges of his lips turn up as they turned down the street housing their destination. He’d always had a soft spot in his heart for Artemis.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They slowed as they approached the house where Artemis lived. She had moved out of the apartment near the university that she had shared with Wally while they had been attending. She had graduated a year ago after finishing her degree online, the first in her family to do so.

As they neared the home, Dick and Jason heard barking. A huge, blue-gray, Neapolitan mastiff was being walked by its owner, when it pulled free and began galloping in their direction. The two looked at each other in alarm. The dog was the size of a small horse, its massive head easily level with their chests.

“Oh no,” Dick said quietly.

Jason gaped at him. “What’s ‘oh no’?”

“Bruce Lee!” Artemis yelled at the dog as she chased behind it. “You get back here right now!” The dog ignored her in favor of greeting her guests. She had no hope of catching up to him.

“Please tell me that thing knows you,” Jason begged his brother, “and that it likes you!”

“It likes me, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t going to hurt,” Dick replied, already wincing in preparation.

Bruce Lee leapt in the air a few feet shy of its goal. Dick threw himself to the side to avoid being slammed by the hundred- and eighty-pound behemoth that liked to pretend it was a dog. Jason, however, went spinning as the dog barreled into him. Rolling to his feet, Dick braced himself as Bruce Lee scrambled around, springing at him once more. Without momentum, the dog only managed to stagger Dick as it planted its giant paws on his shoulders. This put Bruce Lee’s head above Dick’s, but the dog was not to be denied. Ducking down, he licked at Dick’s face with an enormous, wet tongue. In seconds, the young man was drenched in dog slobbers. 

“Ugh! Down, Bruce Lee! Get down.” Dick tried to sound alpha but was laughing too hard to sound intimidating.

Jason sat up from where he had landed on the grass and shook the slime from his hands. As Artemis arrived, he waved a hand in the dog’s direction.

“Whose idea was it to buy you a horse?” he asked her sarcastically.

She smirked down at him, holding out a hand. “He’s not a horse. He’s a dog,” she corrected sweetly. “Are you okay? Bruce Lee didn’t hurt you, did he, Jason?”

“Who, me? Nah, I’m alright.” He shook off her concern after he allowed her to haul him to his feet. “Have you been giving that dog venom or something? He looks like he should belong to Bane.”

“Nope,” she laughed. “He’s just this big naturally.”

“When did you get him? I remember you having a little one once upon a time, but this? He’s huge!”

Sadness flickered over her face. “I gave the original Brucely to Wally’s parents shortly after . . . Well, after. Will got me Bruce Lee last year, so I wouldn’t have to be alone. You sure your all right?”

“Nothing damaged except maybe my pride.”

She smiled. “That’s good. I mean, what’s a little drool amongst friends, right?” She laughed at the splatters that were sliding down his jacket.

“Ew,” Jason grimaced, noticing the dog slobbers coating his jacket. He quickly stripped it off, holding it away from him.

Dick grunted. “Hey! A little help over here wouldn’t go amiss.”

Artemis grabbed the dog’s collar. There was no way she could physically pull the dog from him but, when she snapped the dog’s name and gave a firm yank, Bruce Lee dropped down on all fours, obedient. His tail was moving so fast his entire back end wagged with it.

“Hey, yeowch,” Jay yelped as the tail whacked him with all the force of a small, compact car. “Jeez, Artie, that’s gonna leave a mark!”

She sniggered. “I thought you were a Boy Wonder,” she grinned at him. “You’re supposed to be able to dodge bullets but here you can’t even avoid a tail.”

“That dog should have its own zip code,” Jason grumbled as he moved to the other side of her. “I know this is somehow your fault, Dickweed.”

Pulling jerky out of his pocket, Dick laughed as he fed the dog the treat. “Who’s my favorite doggie in the world? Who’s my widdle guy?” Dick cooed, ruffling the mounds of loose skin surrounding the dog’s head.

Swallowing the handful of jerky whole, Bruce Lee’s wagging sped up as it wallowed in Dick’s adoration.

“What the fuck? Where the hell did you get jerky, you jerk?” Jason asked with annoyance. “No wonder the dog attacked us!”

“Bruce Lee didn’t attack us,” Dick said with a sickeningly sweet tone. His attention was all for the dog. “No, he didn’t, did you, boy? No, no, you didn’t. You just wanted a hug, didn’t you, boy? Didn’t you? Yes, you did!”

Bruce Lee turned in a circle, then pressing his giant head against Dick’s chest as he demanded even more affection. Magic fingers found their way under Bruce Lee’s collar and behind his ear, making the dog rumble, its back-leg thumping in ecstasy.

Artemis smiled. “Dick always brings Bruce Lee treats every time he shows up and that is why he is his absolute favorite person in the world.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Okay, that and because he continues to treat Bruce Lee like he’s still a three-month-old puppy. He loves it.”

“Second favorite person in the whole world, Artie,” Dick corrected, “after you.”

Jay gaped at his brother. “So, you always carry dog treats around in your pocket? Or did you know we were coming here before I did?”

Dick patted Bruce Lee’s enormous head once more. “I picked up a package when we stopped the 7-Eleven for your Slurpee.”

“You might have warned me I’d need to bring a change of clothes,” Jay complained.

Dick glanced down at himself. “What for? Bruce Lee will just slobber on them again before we leave.”

At that moment, Bruce Lee shook himself hard, his jowls flapping as slobbers flew out in all directions. Dick and Artemis stepped out of the way with expert timing, leaving Jason to be covered by the majority of the flinging saliva.

“You ass!” Jason yelped.

“What?” Dick laughed. “It wasn’t me!”

“You’ve tromped though the sewers before, Jason,” Artemis said as she covered her smirk with a hand. “How can this be worse than that?”

Dick grinned. “Yeah, I thought you liked dogs, Jay.”

“You keep calling that monster a dog,” Jason grumbled as he tried to wipe his shirt and pants off. He leaned down, wiping his hands on the grass. “Ugh! Hey, Artie! Mind if I go in and wash my hands?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said. Artemis picked up Bruce Lee’s leash and headed back in the direction of the pretty, yellow house with the green shutters. “Follow me.” She glanced back at them. “You guys just passing through the neighborhood or is there a reason for this little visit?”

Unsure how to broach the subject, Dick waved her ahead of him. “Um, we’ll tell you in the house.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Artemis’ brows drew together as she attempted to decipher Dick’s expression.

“Okay, fair enough. Do I need to be sitting while you tell me?” she asked sarcastically as she stuck her key in the door and opened it.

The guys followed her in, Jason looked around curiously as Artemis flicked on the lights in her living room and walked into the kitchen. Bruce Lee went with her, making loud slurping noises as he drank from his water dish. A couple of minutes later, Artemis reentered with some bottled water. She tossed one to each of her guests and waved for them to sit.

Jason declined and moved over behind the sofa to stare out the window. Dick sat on the edge of the couch near the upholstered chair where Artemis planted herself. She kicked off her tennis shoes and tucked one of her feet beneath the other leg, getting comfortable.

Gesturing with her water bottle, she said, “So, spill it. What’s up? You need help with something? I still keep up my archery,” she admitted. “Just can’t seem to give it up.”

Dick stalled for time by opening his water and taking a long draw. He stared down at the bottle as he carefully replaced the top, sighing.

“Yeah, that’s why we’re here. We need your help with a mission coming up.”

“Great,” she said. “Retirement isn’t all its cracked up to be. I could use a little action. So, what’s going on?”

Dick met her eyes. “Look, could you just listen to me for a minute before you say anything. Just . . . Just hear me out first, alright?”

The easy laughter from moments ago fled as Artemis picked up on discomfort of her guests. Bruce Lee whined in response, leaning his body against Artemis’s leg in a gesture of comfort.

“You’re kind of scaring me a little, Dick,” Artemis admitted. “What’s really going on?”

She glanced over at Jason, but the younger man seemed tense. He turned completely away from the conversation, facing the window as if he found the empty sidewalk outside fascinating. She looked back at Dick, worried.

“Is it . . .? Did someone . . .?” Artemis asked. She couldn’t say the words. She couldn’t stand to lose someone else.

She had tried to stay active in the crime fighting world for a while after losing Wally, but finally chose to retire, determined to live her life in the way they had always talked of doing. Unfortunately, without a person to share it with, civilian life had become boring, monotonous, . . . lonely. Guilt ate at her. One of her coworkers had been asking her out for the past six months and, for the first time, she was actually considering accepting . . . Maybe.

Wally’s death had followed her for a long time. It was time to start living again. Fighting again . . . Dating. Wally wouldn’t have wanted her to die along with him.

“No,” Dick shook his head quickly. “No, nothing like that,” he told her. “Actually, it is _good news_ for a change.”

Artemis pursed her lips, doubtfully. “ _This_ is _good_ news?” she asked, looking at their serious expressions.

Dick nods, a small, hesitant smile edging its way onto his face. “If it’s true, then, yeah . . . It’s good news. The best news ever, in fact.”

She looked skeptical. “ _IF_ it’s true?”

“It’s true,” Jason said, reminding them that he’s still in the room.

Artemis sighed. “Then don’t keep me in suspense,” she said. “I could use some good news for a change.”

Dick licked his lips nervously. He reached over with one hand and grabbed her free one, squeezing it gently.

“Artemis . . . We believe that Wally is alive,” Dick told her softly.

Artemis blinked but didn’t move, didn’t react. She stared at him.

He frowned. “Did you hear me?”

Her gaze flew suddenly to Jason. He wasn’t looking out the window anymore but had turned to face her. Jay didn’t smile but he nodded once, confirming what she thought she’d heard was correct.

“W-What?” she stammered. “What did you say?” She tried to tug her hand free, but Dick held on, refusing to let her go.

“Wally is alive,” he repeated firmly.

Her water bottle dropped to the floor with a thump. Dick stooped, picking it up with his free hand and setting on the coffee table in front of her. Artemis tugged again and, this time, Dick let her pull her hand away. She leaned back in her chair, a stunned expression on her face.

“How?” Her voice cracked a little on the word. “I saw him . . . How?”

“What?”

She looked at him. Wally’s best friend . . .

“How do you _know_?” she snapped suddenly, angrily. “You can’t just walk in here and drop a bomb in my lap like that and expect me to _believe_ it! I’ve grieved him for three years! How do you know this? _How_?”

“Artemis . . .” Dick began.

Artemis jumped up and grabbed Dick’s collar, pulling him up in front of her. “You tell me how, Dick Grayson, and it better be good,” she croaked. “It had better be good because . . . because”

Because she couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t get her hopes up only to be disappointed. She couldn’t grieve for him a second time . . . But if it were true? She shook her head angrily. No. Artemis Crock had never been that lucky.

Dick didn’t move.

Instead, he stared back at her with those stupid, gorgeous, blue eyes with thick, black lashes that every single woman in the world adored, and all Artemis could do was wish that they were green . . . Green with reddish-brown lashes and a dash of freckles across his nose.

 _Wally_!

She wanted Wally back. Oh God, and it hurt just like it did three years ago when the snow had settled and there were only two speedsters left standing where before there had been three.

‘ _Savage is playing his hand close to his chest, Father. Even among those of the Light, very few know of the speedster’s return._ ’

Artemis blinked at the sound of a woman’s voice she didn’t recognize. Glancing stupidly at the recorder in Jason’s hand, she listened as it was followed by voice she did recognize. _Ra’s al Ghul_.

‘ _Yes, yes, I am aware. Do the heroes mourn him still?_ ’

‘ _Savage claims that in only a few days he will have speedster in his possession. Once that happens, it will merely be a matter of time before he is broken in both mind and spirit, and then he can be molded into a soldier of the Light._ ’

The woman’s voice again . . . She had called him ‘Father’, marking her identity as Ra’s’ daughter, Talia. Artemis had heard of the woman, but never had an occasion to meet her.

Jason paused it.

“Barry is right now in Central City. Bart is with him, as is Jay Garrick,” Jason told her. “We checked. They’ve been there for the last three weeks when they weren’t out stopping criminals.”

Artemis frowned, trying to wrap her mind around what he was saying.

“Barry, Bart, Jay,” Jason spoke slowly, “None are the speedster that Talia al Ghul was talking about. There is only one other speedster in the world . . .”

“How did you get this?” Artemis whispered. “Is it possible that they knew that they were being recorded? Could they have been lying? Setting a trap?”

 _Please say no_ . . . _Please, please say no_.

Jason shook his head. “No, they couldn’t have known,” he promised. “They _weren’t_ lying, Artemis. _I swear it_! I’d _never_ have brought this to Dick if I thought for a second it was a lie. I’d sure as _hell_ never would have brought it to you if I thought it was anything less than the truth.”

Several emotions crossed her face as Artemis tried to process the information. She let go of Dick’s collar finally and sat down heavily, nodding at the coffee table in front of her.

“Set it down,” she told him. “I want to hear it - _all_ of it.”

Dick made room on the couch for Jason. His younger brother rewound the recorder and started it again, setting it on the coffee table in front of her. The three of them sat there for long minutes, listening to two separate recordings of conversations between people they knew were confirmed members of The Light as they discussed the fate of an unnamed speedster.

 _Could it be_? Could she allow herself to believe?

It was obvious that Dick did, and Jason was as sincere as she had ever seen him. The prickling in her sinuses were making her eyes water. Then it was there - at the very end they heard it, a part of the second conversation Jason had explained came from a later recording.

‘ _It will further enhance our cause once Savage is done with him_ ,’ Ra’s was saying, ‘ _at which time, our young Mr. West will be more than willing to serve The Light_.’

Artemis covered her mouth with both hands. “Wally!”

Her voice broke as did her control. Dick was around the coffee table a second later, kneeling in front of her. Bruce Lee whined sympathetically while Artemis buried her face in her friend’s shoulder, sobbing.

She _believed_ . . . She finally did.

 _Wally’s alive_!

“Artie? I’m sorry,” Jay was kneeling beside her chair now as well. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I thought this would make you happy.”

Artemis choked on her laughter. Holding Dick with her left arm, she wrapped her right around Jason’s neck, drawing him into the group hug. She kissed his cheek, ruffling his hair, all the while hugging them both.

“You did, Jay. You’ve made me the happiest woman in the world,” she promised him. “Wally’s alive!”

Jason laughed against her shoulder. “That’s good to know because, honestly, there for a minute, I couldn’t tell.”

“Wally’s alive!” She yelled it this time, making the dog bark.

Jason was grinning as he finally leaned back. “So, what’s next?” he asked.

“Next?” Artemis announced. “We call Will.”

"Will?" Jay asked.

"Roy," Dick clarified. "He's going by Will now. Long story. Explain later."

"Oh, wait! Artie told me about this," Jason admitted. "I'd forgotten. Sorry, but a lot's happened while I've been gone."

“Right. But we're calling not just Will. We're getting the team together for this one,” Dick told them. “And then – We plan. It’s time to bring the Wall-man home.”


	4. Down The Rabbit Hole

_It’s just like old times . . . almost_.

As Nightwing and his team gazed down on the medieval castle below, he thought, _But it will be again soon, Wally. We’re coming for you, buddy._

As far as heavy fortifications go, it was impressive. The castle was situated on a piece of rocky shore that jutted out into the Black Sea near the Turkish city of Trabzon. The land was flat for a mile with no places for the enemy to hide if they tried to approach . . . And it was owned by the immortal calling himself Vandal Savage.

Oh, he had tried to hide that fact but, once you realized that there was an immortal being out there, it wasn’t a huge leap to discover that Cihangir Burakgazi was one of the names that Savage had held over his many millennia of existence; after all, Cihangir meant conqueror of the world and Burakgazi stood for “warrior”. Savage apparently had a high opinion of himself all throughout history.

As they had approached in the bioship, the castle initially resembled a ruin. There were places along the curtain wall that had crumbled due to the ravages of time and the outer bailey was deserted, but it was all a ruse designed to fool the eye.

Now, from their vantage point, the team could see that the entrance into the inner bailey was in excellent repair. Nightwing had no doubt that the portcullis and heavy doors standing between the team and the inner bailey were reinforced. Getting through the entrance wouldn’t be difficult as it might have been in the early Byzantine Empire, but after that, once the team entered the inner bailey, he knew it would become a free-for-all.

Nightwing was certain that Savage’s security measures would include a bottomless pit of guards, among whom were reported to be mercenaries, ex-special forces, and numerous members from the League of Assassins – on loan from Ra’s al Ghul. This would be where the team would split up. The majority of them would stay to take on the guards and create the distraction while Nightwing and Red Hood climbed clandestinely from over the curtain wall and entered the keep proper.

“You sure this is the place?” Conner stood at his elbow, eyeing the castle’s keep doubtfully.

“According to our intel it’s a lot bigger on the inside,” Dick admitted.

“Yeah, about that intel . . .”

“It’s from Will. It’s good,” Dick insisted.

“It’s not Will I’m questioning,” Conner mumbled, but didn’t pursue it further. “This smells like a trap.”

“If you thought that, why did you agree to come?” Dick asked him.

Conner frowned. “Because it’s Wally . . . and because I couldn’t let you, Artemis, and Will go in without backup. If there is even a slight chance Wally’s alive . . .” his voice trailed off.

Will’s contribution to the rescue attempt had been two-fold: his bow and the partial blueprints to the castle that had been provided to them from his wife, Cheshire. While their previous relationship was well known now, the couple’s marriage was not. Many didn’t consider Jade trustworthy despite being mother to the much-doted-upon Lian and separating from the Light after Artemis’ adventure undercover. Jade had refused to give up the life of an assassin for hire and still kept tenuous ties to several of the Light’s members. She could have worked as a double agent, but instead kept her silence about the activities of either side.

Whatever her chosen path, Jade loved her sister and husband enough to risk stealing the blueprints of the castle’s layout. The plans showed there was much that was added beneath the castle’s keep, but they were incomplete. Apparently, Savage didn’t place all his trust into his partnership with the Light’s other members.

According to the blueprints, Savage had been remodeling and adding improvements over the last one hundred years or so. In the last twenty, he began upgrading his high-tech gadgetry and toys. As if having fourteen-foot thick walls and an immense, heavily reinforced, solid oak doors weren’t difficult enough to breach as it was, the castle would likely have things such as motion sensors, cameras, and electronic locks with which to deal.

“Is everyone clear on the plan?” Nightwing asked the team.

He met the eyes of each of them in turn, Conner, Will, Artemis, M’gann, Kaldur as well as Jason who had been silent for the entire trip.

Will didn’t look happy. “I don’t like that it’s just the two of you going in after Wally. What if you run into trouble?”

“We’ll handle it,” Dick soothed. “Your strength lies in your bow, Will, the same as Artemis’s. You’re both better distance fighters and that means you are more valuable on the walls, taking out as many guards as you can. Red Hood and I have better training for close combat. We’ll be fine.”

Jason settled his helmet on his head, his red mask - a secondary shield for his identity, lay beneath it. Call him paranoid, he came by it honestly.

Artemis didn’t complain. She knew that she would be liability once she saw Wally. Better for her to stay where she was needed, where her skills would be an asset in the fight ahead than to allow her emotions to get in the way.

“What about Superboy or Aqualad?” Will asked. He really hated this plan. “Can you not take one of them with you?”

Dick shook his head. “We’ve already been over this. Everyone is where their abilities would be most useful. Look, Jay and I, we know how to get in and out without attracting attention. We don’t need anyone ripping a door off for us because we can both pick a lock in ninety seconds and I can hack an electric lock in less time than that.”

“Enough chatter. The mission is a go,” Artemis butted in. She didn’t know what Will’s beef was but for every minute they sat here, Wally was being subjected to Vandal Savage’s brainwashing methods. “Miss Martian, link us up.”

“ _Sound off,_ ” M’gann’s voice sounded in their minds.

“ _Here_ ,” Nightwing started it off and the rest followed suit, Will reluctantly answered last.

“ _Okay. Wally’s depending on us._ _Let’s bring him home_ ,” Nightwing rallied.

The ship’s cloaking ability would hide them until they were right outside of the curtain walls of the castle. The bioship would drop them off just outside of the gates to the inner bailey and would hover in the skies above in camouflage until they needed an exit.

Superboy and Miss Martian would make certain that the portcullis and the inner doors to the gate were rendered inoperable as Aqualad covered them. Nightwing and Red Hood would come over the wall near the keep, entering the castle keep undetected while their power hitters created a distraction. When they exited with Wally, Artemis and Red Arrow would continue to provide cover fire from their strategic vantage points while the team retreat into the safety of the bioship before following themselves.

The plan in place, the door to the ship slid open as Superboy, Aqualad and Miss Martian exited first. Superboy, Aqualad, and Miss Martian first. Cries of alarm went up immediately, but it was too late. Superboy gripped the metal portcullis, tearing it free of its moorings as Aqualad used the water from the moat like two powerful jets to shove guards from the tops of the inner courtyard walls. Superboy tossed the heavy metal gate to one side like it was a toy.

Using their grappling arrows, Artemis and Will scaled the walls on either side of the door at a run, securing their posts and holding off the stream of guards that continued to pour from the guardhouse. Superboy and Aqualad rammed the inner doors in order to create an exit for Nightwing, Hood, and Wally later. Miss Martian aided their progress with a tremendous mental shove. The guards that were on the other side flew in all directions. While Superboy and Aqualad rushed in as ground support, M’gann removed the heavy doors altogether, using her telekinesis to clear a path.

The bioship moved to a separate location as Nightwing and Red Hood waited for the signal. The idea was to enter the keep clandestinely after drawing out as many guards as possible. This would enable them to reach Kid Flash faster and extract him from his prison with as little interference as possible.

Red Arrow placed himself on the curtain wall close to the keep’s entrance, waiting for a lull . . . As the last of the stragglers had poured into the bailey, Will hailed the last of the team through the mind link.

“ _I think that’s all of them_ ,” he told them. “ _When you two are in position, Artemis and I will let loose two smoke arrows. You’ll be able to rappel down from here and enter the keep under cover_.”

“ _Check_ ,” Nightwing acknowledged. He looked at his little brother. Jason had already surpassed Dick in height by two inches and outweighed him by thirty pounds. _Not so little anymore_ , he mused.

“What was that?” Jason asked, having caught the stray thought through the link.

“Nothing. We’re up,” Nightwing announced, heading toward the door. “Let’s go!”

“Right behind you,” Red Hood said as he followed.

The bioship had positioned them so that the brothers stepped out onto the curtain wall next to Red Arrow.

“Straight ahead and to your right.” Will told them, notching one of his smoke arrows. “ _Artemis, now_!”

Seconds later, smoke billowed upward, filling the bailey below and strategically adding to the confusion. Attaching a line to the wall with his grapple gun, Nightwing shot the other end into the stone keep. He and Red Hood zip-lined to the bottom, disappearing into the smoke below.

Will spared them a grin. “ _I gotta get me one of those_ ,” he told them. “ _Does the Bat have any extras_?”

Nightwing smiled as the two ran up the steps and entered the keep. “ _What’s Ollie do all day_? _Tell his R &D department to work one up for you_.”

“ _Our grapples are attached to our arrows_ ,” Artemis reminded them, cutting into the conversation. “ _Red Arrow’s just coveting someone else’s toys_.”

“ _Hey_! _You weren’t supposed to tell them that_ ,” Red Arrow shushed her through the mind link. “ _You guys be careful. Good luck_ ,” he sent after Nightwing.

“ _You, too. Watch your backs_ ,” Nightwing told them. “ _We’ll be back before you know it._ ”

“ _Bring him back to me_ , _Dick_ ,” Artemis whispered into their heads.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although, it appeared as though everyone was outside, they moved cautiously. The two of them were on their own. If anything were to go wrong, the team would have difficulty coming to their rescue. Jason brought up the rear, expecting a rush of soldiers to come at them at any minute. None came . . . but this was as unsettling as the thick silence. The thick walls of the keep muted the sounds of the battle raging on the other side.

Reaching back, Dick used hand signals to direct Jason’s attention. The stairs leading to the dungeons were exactly where the plans said they would be. Jade had strongly suggested that Savage would keep any prisoner of Kid Flash’s importance down, not up. Except, for having a prisoner of such importance, the door was noticeably unguarded.

“This is creepy,” Jason murmured in a quiet voice, knowing that he was only stating what Dick himself was thinking. It felt like they were going down Alice’s fucking rabbit hole. He didn’t like it. It limited their means of escape to just one route.

“ _Use the link_ ,” Dick reminded him. “ _Less likely we will be overheard this way_.”

“ _Whatever_ ,” Jason retorted.

He wasn’t used to the mind link. As the second Robin, Jason had only been a part of the Young Justice team for just a few months before Joker had killed him. And honestly, he couldn’t imagine anyone who would want to hang out in his head after his resurrection, not even him.

“ _How much further do you think it is_?” Jason asked. “ _We’re getting pretty far down here. If we run into trouble, it’s going to be a bitch to fight our way back out_.”

“ _That should be no problem for you_ ,” Dick teased. “ _Isn’t that how you described the last couple of girls you dated_?”

Jason ignored the quip, feeling rather proud of himself for doing so. Anywhere else, he would have made some comment about Barbara, just to get a rise out of Dickwad. Jay smirked behind his helmet. _Barbie had always been a smart one_ . . .

“ _I heard that_ ,” Dick retorted inside Jason’s head.

“ _You’re the only one because_ _I can no longer hear the others_ ,” Jason observed.

“ _Oh yeah_?” Will’s voice sounded inside of his temple. “ _We can hear you two just fine_.”

“ _Gah_! _Get out of my head, Arrow_ ,” Jay barked. “ _I hate this_.”

“ _Would you two_ _hurry it up_ ,” Superboy groused at them. “ _There are too many of them. M’gann, on your left_!”

“ _Got it_! _Thanks, Superboy_ ,” M’gann answered.

“ _We need to cut the chatter to only what is necessary to the mission. We each need to concentrate on the fight going on around us_ ,” Aqualad chided.

Jason rolled his eyes thankful he didn’t hang around these guys on a regular basis. Too uptight for him.

He looked at Nightwing’s back as he led the way. Hard to believe this was the same Nightwing he remembered from before _the thing_ Joker did to him _._ _That_ Nightwing would have been talking his ear off. Apparently, some things have changed after all. His chatty brother wasn’t so chatty anymore. Was West’s death behind it or if the last three years of enduring the blame game had darkened what Jay had always considered a bright soul?

OR if hanging out with the big bad Bat had finally managed to do the deed . . . It didn’t take much effort to lay Dick’s grimmer mood at Bruce’s feet. Of course, with only a little effort on Jay’s part, he was sure he could lay global warming and the Ghostbusters reboot at Bruce’s feet.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the bottom of the stone steps a passage stretched out in two directions. Nightwing checked the holographic computer incorporated into his glove.

“ _Left,_ ” He said in Jay’s head, continuing to lead the way.

There were doors here and there but Nightwing didn’t bother checking any of them. Red Hood followed, glancing behind him uneasily every few feet. The hairs on his neck were standing on end. He didn’t like this. Their enemies could be hiding behind any one of these doors. If they came pouring out of any one of them, they would cut off their only escape route.

“ _How do you know West isn’t behind one of these doors_?” he asked. “ _Is there an X on that blueprint with ‘Kid Flash is here’ scribbled beside it with red magic marker or something_?”

Nightwing scoffed. “ _You can’t scribble on a holographic map_ ,” he reminded him.

“ _Whatever. You didn’t answer my question._ ”

“ _Would you keep something so valuable in the part of your evil lair that’s been ‘included’ in the blueprints or would you stash him off the grid in the part that’s missing_?”

“ _What do you mean something’s missing?_ ” Hood stretched his neck to look over Nightwing’s shoulder at the holographic map. “ _W_ _here we are now_?” he asked, whispering even in his head.

“ _We’re here.”_ Nightwing pointed at a glowing dot nearing the edge the map _. “However, the_ s _pecs that Jade gave me end in another five hundred feet. After that, we’re on our own_ ,” Nightwing answered.

“Wait, what?” Jay startled, forgetting to use the link. “We’re mounting a rescue based off an incomplete map?”

Dick stopped and looked at him. “You were there when Jade told us the map was incomplete when she gave it to us? Weren’t you paying attention?”

Jason rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I guess that must have been when I fell asleep,” he rumbled uncomfortably.

When Dick gaped at him, Jason shrugged his shoulders. “What? Everyone was talking and, after a while, it all kind of sort of blend together into blah, blah, blah.” He mimicked talking with a hand motion. “How is it my fault your friends are boring?”

“Keep it down, will you? Just because I haven’t seen any kind of security, doesn’t mean that there is none,” Dick cautioned. “Jade said that Savage has made numerous upgrades to several portions of the castle over the last decade or so.”

Jason glanced around him at the stone walls and floors, the heavy wooden doors. “Other than electric lights, I don’t see any upgrades. Is she sure that West isn’t being kept in some other part of the castle? You know, somewhere _not_ underground?”

Dick’s lips turned up just a bit. “What’s the matter, Jay? I would have thought being underground would feel familiar.”

Jason glared behind his mask. “Don’t be a dick.”

Dick grinned, ignoring the “dick” remark. “Jeez, so sensitive . . . Come on. Let’s go; we don’t have all day,” Dick told him. “Savage has room enough for an army in this fortress. The others won’t be able to hold them off forever. We need to find KF and haul ass out of here ASAP.”

They rounded a bend and took another short stairwell down to yet another level when Red Hood pulled up.

“Whoa! I think we’ve found the upgrades,” he gaped.

The stone passage ended abruptly, and the corridor ahead was lined with steel plating and modern lighting. The few doors that could be seen were of the sleek, heavy, gray metal variety. The kind that slid open only when the correct numerical sequence was entered into the door’s security keypads.

“So, do we start checking doors _now_?” Hood asked.

“I don’t know,” Nightwing admitted. “The hall extends a long way, but I can see at least two intersections from here. He could be down any one of those.”

Hood nodded. “Right. So, if we are going to check them all, we’re going to need to step up the pace a little.”

Nodding in agreement, Nightwing took off at a jog.

Jason hesitated only for a second to check behind, but the gap between them was enough so that when a heavy bulkhead slammed down from the ceiling, it came down between them with Nightwing on the far side of it while Jay was left standing alone in the stone passageway.

Running forward, Jay searched for a keypad or panel, something he could hack into to get the door open. There was only a blank panel off to the right, set into the door itself but no controls to speak of. He pounded on the door.

“Nightwing?! Can you hear me?” He yelled. “ _Screw it._ ”

“ _Use <kzzt> link_.”

He heard Dick’s voice in his head, but it sounded staticky. What the hell? Jason didn’t think it was possible for mental links to get static.

“ _Can you hear me_?”

“ _Not well. <Kzzzt> hear me_?”

 _“Same here. Why didn’t you wait for me_?”

 _“You said <kzzt> hurry up_.”

“ _So what_? Now _you listen to me_? _You okay_?” he asked as he dug into his pocket for a tool in which to pry the panel free.

“ _Uh . . . Yeah <kzzt> rememb<zzt> all those <kzzt> guards you were expecting <kzzzt> into? I think <kzzt> found them.”_

Jason popped the panel. “ _Shit, hang on! I’m hacking into the door over here. I should have it up in a minute_.”

“ _A minute_?” Dick’s crackling voice laughed into his head. “ _I bet good <kzzzt> itakes you <kzt> least ten_.”

“ _You ass_ ,” Jay grumbled as he stared in dismay at what looked like twenty wires and as many electrical cords. Who the hell wired this thing? Okay, this might take a little longer than he thought. “ _How many_?”

“ _Didn’t catch kzzt_?”

“ _Guards! How many guards_?”

“ _None <kzzt>_ _now_ ,” Dick answered. “ _Don’t fret <kzt>. <Kzzzt> < kzzten neutralizkzt>_.”

Was the static getting worse?

“ _Right. Well, I should be through soon unless you see something on your side that will open the bulkhead._ ”

“ _There’s <kzztthing here but <kzzt> not . . . hack . . ._”

Dick’s voice in his head was beginning to cut out altogether. How was Vandal doing this?

“ _Nightwing_? . . . _Wing_! _Are you getting further away_? _There’s something wrong with the mind link_.”

In fact, they hadn’t heard anything from the others in a while. Was that because of the interference with the mind link or were they trouble? Impatient, Jason yanked on the wires until he pulled the motherboard out of the wall. _One of these might do it_ , he thought to himself.

“ _Savage <kzzt> . . . disrupt <kzt> link . . . kay. I’m going . . . ahead . . . Wally . . .get door . . . return . . . bailey . . . help others_.” Nightwing ordered.

“ _No_! _Wait for me_!” Jason snapped angrily. “ _I’ve almost got it, damn it! I’m right behind you_.”

“ _No_! _Meet . . . team . . . I . . . thi . . . ne . . . -lp_!”

“ _Nightwing_? _I’m losing you. Do you need help_?” Jason snipped the white wire - Nothing. _Damn it_!

“ _Te . . .Go_ _. . . I’m . ._.”

“ _Nightwing_!” Jason tried the blue wire. Again, nothing happened.

“ _Wing_?” Jason reached out to his brother again. “ _Dick_?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jason snarled as he ripped the rest of the wires out all at once. The bulkhead rumbled, lifting only four feet before it stopped. What the hell was he supposed to do now? There were no more wires were left, and no time to figure it out. “Damn it! That’s going to have to be good enough,” he groused.

Leaning down, he peered beneath the heavy metal door to the other side. He counted fifteen bodies splayed across the floor. None looked like they were in good enough shape to cause trouble anytime soon, but it was better to err on the side of caution. Yanking out a handful of zip-ties, he would make certain that if anyone _did_ wake up, they wouldn’t be in the way when Nightwing and Wally came through on their way out.

Knocking a pistol from one guard’s hand, he rolled guard onto his stomach as he restrained his hands and feet. Jason paused to pick up the firearm in order to admire it better.

“What is _this_? The 100 or the 101 model?” he asked the unconscious man with a smile. “S&W .40 caliber auto Taurus with an ambidextrous three-way safety and a pearl handle and gold accents . . . Seriously, dude, it’s a really fucking nice piece.”

No answer, but Jason hadn’t expecting one. He continued his one-sided conversation. “You know,” he remarked, “you can’t get these beauties anymore. They stopped production on them a while back.”

Jason shoved the pistol in the back of his waistband and pulled his jacket over it. Prodding the shoulder of the guard with the toe of his boot. “Thanks, buddy. I really mean it. You’re pretty okay for a morally-bankrupted mercenary who chose to forego his humanity in order to work for the likes of Vandal Savage.”

Looking down the main corridor, there was no telling which offshoot Nightwing had taken, and without a map, he had no way of locating him in this fucked-up rabbit warren. Sighing in frustration, Jason turned back the way they come. Dick had told him to go back to the team but, damn, if he wouldn’t kick Dick’s ass when this was all over for not sticking to the original plan.

If that fool got himself into trouble, he’d be on his own. There was no telling if West would be in any condition to assist in his own rescue - and that was **_if_** Savage hadn’t already succeeded in brainwashing Kid Flash. It had taken Jason a week to get back to the States after his discovery of the Light’s plan. As much as he hated Nightwing going off on his own, Red Hood wouldn’t be of any help if he got lost in this underground labyrinth.

Jason snorted. He’d likely end up needing rescued himself if that happened. Hoping he wasn’t leaving Dick to face his own death alone; Jay broke into a run has he headed back up towards the exit.

“ _Watch you back_ , _bro_ ,” Jay thought at his brother, even if the idiot bastard could no longer hear him. “ _It would serve you right if I had to dig your ass up and dump you in a Lazarus Pit . . . If that happened – well, God help you, then_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	5. Retribution

As Nightwing ran through the corridors, he glanced at the passing doors for clues to their contents. Many had keypads for electronic locks. He had stopped to hack the first couple he came to, but the locks were basic and security minimal. Savage would keep Wally somewhere with extra security, someplace designed to keep an important prisoner in and rescuers out. He trusted Jason and the team to have his back and hold off Savage’s minions until he had a chance to locate the speedster and get him out. They wouldn’t be leaving without his best friend. No way would he let the Wall-man down a second time.

He turned down a separate corridor that stemmed off one of the others. Only five doors on this one, any of which could be holding his friend, but only one of them - the door at the end of the hall - had extra security measures. He could tell from a distance this door was different from all the others, and Nightwing would bet the Batmobile that if Wally was anywhere in this maze it would be behind this one.

Wasting no time, Nightwing quickly bent a knee and began hacking through the security. It took five full minutes longer than it took most of his hacks. _Something_ valuable was being kept in there for certain. He checked behind him for some indication his presence had been discovered, but all remained unsettlingly quiet. Finally, there was a beep, then a click, followed by a thud and hiss as a heavy-duty locking bar was released and retracted. Another electronic lock was engaged, however, and Nightwing worked silently on it next. Several more, long minutes passed before the second beep sounded indicating success. Then, as the second locking bar slid out of place, Nightwing quickly put away his equipment.

He felt a moment of satisfaction. There wasn’t a lock available that he couldn’t get through. All those hours in the damp cave below Wayne Manor after school learning how to open every lock, crack every safe, and bypass every electronic keypad known to man were well spent. This moment made it worth the ballgames, dances, and other after-school activities he had missed growing up. If they all got out of this alive, he made a mental note to thank Batman for insisting Dick’s training be so thorough.

Pushing a button on his glove, the door slid open.

No need to search for guards as they came to him from either side of the room’s entrance. They would have heard the door being released, but Nightwing had been prepared for company.

Leaping at the guard on his right, Nightwing planted a boot on his chest while his other foot caught the man in his chin. The devastating kick was more than enough to knock the guard unconscious. Launching into a backflip, he flew over the other guard’s head, grabbing the second guard’s collar shoving both boots into his back. His momentum and weight drove the guard into the floor, the man’s face smacked the stone floor with enough force to ensure he wouldn’t be getting up anytime soon.

A third guard came at him from a door on the opposite end of the room. Nightwing flung an escrima stick at him with stunning accuracy, beaming him between the eyes. His feet flew out from under him already out before he hit the floor. When no one else appeared, Nightwing moved quickly to retrieve his weapon as he scanned the room.

It was empty but for a large alcove to his left and the door that the third guard had emerged from. What secrets lay beyond the second door? He stalked toward the next room with a determined stride. Time to get his friend and get the hell out of Dodge.

Before he could reach the door, the contents of the alcove caught his attention and held it.

“What the hell?” He skidded to a halt, staring.

The room held a laboratory of some kind. He saw a raised platform with a large, freestanding circular structure dominating it, reminding him of a portal to . . . another dimension, perhaps? Or, more likely, the speed force. It looked as though Jay’s Intel was correct, so how much more was true?

All of it, he _hoped_. Otherwise, this excursion was for nothing and he had risked the team’s lives on naught but a damned rumor.

Nightwing’s gaze swept over the other equipment. In the opposite corner, separate from the mystery portal, was a more machinery and a pod similar to the one that held Superboy all those years ago when he, Kid Flash, and Aqualad had found the clone buried deep within the bowels of Cadmus.

He hesitated.

The panels were opaque, allowing light but little else to penetrate its walls. Nightwing thought he could make out what looked to be a human-shaped shadow. He might just be grasping at straws, but it could be holding a certain redheaded speedster . . . or nothing at all. Savage could just as easily have Wally being kept in a cell on the other side of that second door. There was only one way to find out.

He glanced around the room for hidden cameras or other security measures. Just because he couldn’t see any cameras didn’t mean there weren’t any present. The door in here had been more difficult than usual but hardly a deterrent for someone like him, neither were the three guards. Where were the others? Could it be that the team had drawn all of them outside? That didn’t seem likely either.

Concern for Jason flitted through his mind, but Jason wasn’t a pushover – particularly since he had come back from the dead. Someone had completed Jay’s training in the year or so he’d risen from the grave. The idea that this was all a trap set by Jason as a means of revenge also crossed his mind, but Nightwing shoved that aside as quickly as it had shown up. He couldn’t, no, _wouldn’t_ believe his little brother capable of that level of deceit. Going that route would also mean that Wally could still be dead, and he wasn’t ready to lose hope yet.

Something was being held in that pod, however, and if Wally wasn’t there . . . Well, Dick refused to give up until he had taken this castle apart stone by stone first. If Wally were alive, Dick would find him and take him home, back to the life he and Artemis always dreamed about living . . . before Dick’s choices had led to the events that led to Wally’s death.

Stepping over to the machine, Nightwing quickly hooked his wrist computer to the control panel and plowed through the firewall protections. While he waited, he checked the doors again, expecting more guards but none showed. Could it be that no one else was here? Had they arrived when Vandal Savage was away with the Light or at one of his other compounds? Could they be that lucky?

A ‘ _ping’_ brought his attention back to his holo-computer. He was through the last of the firewalls. Pulling up the files, Nightwing found there was only one entitled, helpfully enough, ‘KF.’ His heart began beating just a bit faster at the discovery.

 _Well, that makes this easier_ , he thought, laughing softly. Shaking his head, he checked the parameters of the program. _So much for creativity_.

Nightwing’s trained eyes scanned the information rapidly, searching for the command that would reveal the pod’s interior.

 _Were they cloning Wally like they had Conner and Roy before him_? _No . . . No, they weren’t_. _The pod is being used for_ . . . he stopped to reread it. _The pod is required in order to ‘de-phase’ the subject_? _Am I reading_ _that correctly_? _What does ‘de-phase’ even mean, anyway_? _Is that even a word_?

Nightwing peered over his shoulder again. So far, so good. No one was barging into the room with the intention of separating his head from his torso. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the hum of the machine in front of him. The silence was making the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Being this far below the surface was like stepping into a different world, surreal and unnerving. 

All he wanted to do was yank the pod open and drag Wally out of there but wasn’t sure what that would do to his friend. The term ‘ _de-phase_ ’ continued to run through his mind and it worried him. With no immediate threat breathing down his neck, Nightwing decided that taking his time doing this would be worth the risk of discovery. The last thing he wanted to do was rush this and end up possibly killing his friend - not after coming so close.

Discovering the control that cleared the opaque film on the pod’s glass case, Nightwing flipped the switch. Seconds later, he was gaping at the body of Kid Flash!

 _“My God_! How are you even alive?” Dick breathed softly.

Wally looked to be unconscious at the moment but, what was more alarming was that his friend didn’t appear to be all there. The term _de-phasing_ suddenly sense as he watched Wally go from solid to insubstantial but only here and there, in patches. First an arm; then a foot; next, his chest; a thigh; then part of his face . . .

On top of this, Savage had Wally chained in place with shackles on each of his extremities. He would have thought the shackles would drop off when Wally’s arm or leg phased out of existence, but they didn’t. Instead, the shackles took on the phasing attributes of their prisoner. When Wally phased out, so did they, keeping the speedster locked in place.

Swallowing thickly, Nightwing worried what would happen if he opened the pod now. Would Wally phase back out of existence permanently? Would the flickering in and out of this dimension continue unabated? How the hell would Nightwing get him out of here if that were the case? Or . . .

He took a deep breath. Or might Wally become solid? It was possible that the pod was doing this to him as a way of preventing his escape because Wally had mastered phasing through solid objects before his . . . disappearance.

Dick shook his head. His friend had been alive all this time and he never knew . . . It took an enemy to find the speedster and bring him back from, wherever he had been. The Speed Force, Ra’s had called it. Wally had spoken of it before but as a source of energy, not as a physical place he could go.

Nightwing searched the program for more information that would tell him if he would lose Wally if he disconnected him from the machine. In the end, he had no choice. Nightwing couldn’t remain here waiting and he sure as hell wouldn’t leave Wally behind now that he had found him. So, the question remained, how to extricate his friend from the pod safely.

The computer showed that the program had been running for - _two weeks_?!

Nightwing gazed at his friend in sympathy. Did this de-phasing process hurt? Was Wally in pain even now? What had it been like when he was first extracted from the speed force? It was while he was contemplating this that Nightwing took note: the flickering didn’t happen all the time. Several long minutes could pass between each phase, and even then, the flickering would last only a few seconds.

In fact, the phasing had slowed down during the time since Nightwing had first discovered him behind the glass.

He couldn’t continue to stand here. Eventually, someone would come back to check on their prisoner, especially now that the team was here. No. After everything that Jay had overheard while in Ra’s compound, leaving Wally in this state was not an option. Dick knew in his heart that Wally would rather die than be used against his friends while aiding the enemy.

“Forgive me, Wally, if this is the wrong thing to do,” Nightwing whispered to him. Taking a deep breath, he keyed in the command to open the pod doors.

The depressurizing hiss that accompanied unlocking the mechanism were loud.

Looking over his shoulder again, Dick moved quickly as the glass case retracted. Wally still wore his Kid Flash costume. He looked exactly the same as he did three years ago. It was as if no time at all had passed for the redhead.

His friend flickered one last time, then seemed to settle. Biting his lip, Nightwing reached out a gloved hand to touch him. _Solid_!

 _He’s alive_!

Excited, he gave him a little shake. “Wally?” Nightwing called to him first in a whisper, then a little louder. “Kid Flash? KF, can you hear me?”

“Mmm . . .” The sound rumbled in Wally’s throat. “Mmwha?” His head rolled to one side.

It was like he could breathe again. _Thank God_!

“KF, wake up! We need to get you out of here. Come on, open your eyes for me, pal!” He shook him again.

Dark red lashes fluttered open and familiar green eyes gazed down at him with a blank expression.

“ _Hurry up_! Wally, wake up and get your shit together, damn it,” Dick snapped at him. “We gotta go.”

“D-Di . . .”

“Yeah, it’s Nightwing,” Dick said carefully.

If there was a camera or an audio feed hidden in here, the last thing Nightwing needed was for Wally to blab his secret identity to a member of the Light. “I came to rescue your ass again. You can thank me later. Right now, I need to get these shackles off of you so we can make like a tree and leave.”

Wally blinked, a frown creasing his forehead.

Nightwing smirked. “What? Surely, you missed my lovely puns.”

“Th-That . . .,” Wally mumbled, “was _horrible_.”

The smirk became a grin. “I _knew_ you were still in there somewhere,” he laughed.

He had to blink a few times before he could see the lock clearly. The lenses in Nightwing’s mask would hide his emotions until he could shove it back into its box. The time for celebrating would come _after_ they were safely away from here.

Unlike the rest of the equipment strewn throughout the rest of the room, the shackles holding Wally in place were standard-issue, low-tech cuffs.

“ _Looks like I’m going to have to do this the old-fashioned way_ ”, Nightwing told him as he pulled out his lockpicks.

“Wh-Where?” Wally cleared his throat. Licking his lips, he tried again. “Where am I?”

Nightwing answered as he unfastened first one cuff around Wally’s ankle and then moved to the other leg.“Turkey. Vandal Savage has a fortress here hidden inside a crumbling medieval castle. Which is all the more reason we need to get you out of here ASAP.”

“Savage? T-Turkey? The country or the b-bird because, man, I’m starving. H-How . . .?” Wally blinked down at the top of the ebony head in confusion. “How did I get here?”

“Long story,” Dick replied. “I’ll fill you in later. Needless to say, the entire team’s here to save your sorry ass. They’ve been upstairs cleaning up the last of Savage’s men while I searched you out.”

Wally shook his head. “D-Don’t ‘member . . . much.”

“Might be a smart angle to play up,” Dick smiled. “Artemis is probably going to kill you for real after this.” His smile faded as he spared his friend a glance. “Seriously, what kind of idiot retires from the hero gig only to sacrifice himself to save the world? You are going to run out of those nine lives of yours pretty soon.”

Returning his attention to the job at hand, Nightwing resumed his task. The left cuff was giving him a hard time. The locking mechanism in this one was tricky.

 _Yeah, tricky. It’s got nothing to do with blurry vision_ , Dick told himself. _Damn allergies_.

“I mean, you’ve got to be on number seven or eight by now,” Dick rambled on. “One of these days, I may not be around to pull you butt out of the fire, and _then_ what are you going to do?”

“Do?” Wally asked.

His friend was still pretty out of it but seemed to be coming around nicely. Dick was just happy he wasn’t phasing in and out anymore.

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do,” Nightwing instructed as the lock finally released and the shackle fell away. He moved quickly to the last cuff. “You and Artemis are going to have a nice life, growing old and senile together, and you’re both going to leave the heroic sacrificing to the professionals.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vandal Savage watched on the monitors as his fortress was invaded for the first time in centuries. His inner bailey had been turned into a battle zone. The young ones had somehow discovered his fortress, but his men were successful in keeping the children at bay

He ground his teeth in annoyance, but he wasn’t angry. When one was immortal, one learned how to play the Long Game. If the young ones managed to breach his compound, it was a mere delay, nothing more. He had already set the next stage of his plan in motion. Despite the young heroes’ interference, Savage’s Long Game would continue to advance. So, when the door to the outer room flew open, he had expected it.

Indeed, the alarm had sounded the moment that Nightwing had triggered the motion sensors that had brought the bulkhead down behind him. What had surprised him was the ease with which the Batman’s first protégé had managed to avoid detection for so long and how quickly he had dismantled the security of the outer laboratory door. Savage’s eyes narrowed. He would have to devise a punishment for the man in charge of his security systems once this was over.

 _Good help is so hard to find these days_. _People are always more dependable when their lives are on the line_ , he lamented. It was a mistaken to have allowed himself to become soft. Being so civilized had obviously led to this setback, small though it was.

Savage prepared to get a little exercise when Nightwing eventually burst through the door to his inner sanctum, only . . . it never happened. Glancing at the monitor showing the outer room, he saw that the young man hadn’t rushed past the lab in a mad, emotional dash as any of his teammates would have done. Instead, Nightwing took a look around first, noticing the technology set up in the alcove off the main room, and discovered the pearl.

 _Unfortunate_.

So, the fight on the surface was a distraction. The attack on his compound was in truth a rescue operation, a “snatch and grab” as it were. He would need to see where the information about his acquisition had been leaked and plug the hole. Still, the young ones hadn’t won the day yet. Was he angry? No, Vandal Savage didn’t get angry. What Vandal Savage did do was exact _revenge_ upon his enemies.

Sliding down, his hand caress the blade at his hip, his fingers stroking the familiar ivory grip of one of his most prized possessions. When one lived as long as he had, moth or rust overtook most of his worldly goods. Savage no longer allowed himself to get sentimental about most of his belongings. He outlived them all, but no matter, things were easy enough to replace, all, but with the exception of this one.

Not many men could boast they owned the blade that had murdered them. Or that they had used that self-same blade to visit upon their murderer a fitting end. Of this, Savage was certain he was the only one.

He still remembered the sting of its razor-sharp edge as it had sliced through the muscles and tendons of his throat all those centuries ago. Remembered watching as his heart pumped pint after pint of his life’s blood onto the Persian rugs that had decorated the floor of his tent. Genghis Khan had a habit of leaving behind the weapon he had used embedded in the body of his victim as a means of paying Death for the task of escorting his enemies to Sheol. Savage wasn’t nearly as generous. After he had ended Khan’s life, Savage had kept blade. The Mongol bastard could pay for his own damned passage to the netherworld.

The scabbard was a work of art. It and the blade beneath it were gold, the scabbard had been worked with expert hands and encrusted with numerous jewels. Rust had no power over gold, and although it was a soft metal, the blade had only one or two nicks in it. Savage had long ago sought out a sorcerer to bless the bite of his blade with unusual strength and with a degree of sharpness that few other man-made weapons could claim. His victims would never feel the prick of the weapon used to end their lives or understand what had caused the wound that bled so freely.

Sliding through the door, Savage used the architecture of the room and its equipment to shield him from view. He moved with an unnatural stillness born from many millennia of practice. Neither the bird nor the speedster noticed his approach. Nightwing was too intent on his task and Kid Flash had yet to fully regain his wits about him.

He smiled as he made his move. This was the Batman’s protégé . . . He would have only a moment before the boy spotted him, a moment, however, was all Savage needed.

Blade in hand, he stepped forward as he plunged the golden dagger deep.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wally blinked, shaking his head to try to clear his muddled thoughts. Nightwing was working the shackles around his ankles that bound him to this machine.

Nightwing . . . Dick, his friend, was speaking to him but Wally was having trouble following his words. _Savage_? _The team_ . . . i _s here_? _Artemis_?

 _Artemis_!

His thoughts ground to a halt at the memory of the blonde archer who had won his heart. Flashes of events, both past and future, blew past him at speeds too great for even a speedster to follow. The blurred visions had been eating away at his sanity for what felt like an eternity and Wally leapt at the opportunity to latch onto this one memory as his anchor, a way to help his consciousness ground itself back into reality.

Nightwing . . . _Dick_ had moved on to the shackle on his wrist. He was still speaking to him. _What is he saying_?

“Leave the heroic sacrifices to the professionals.”

 _Sacrifices_? _What_?

Wally struggled to follow his friend’s words even as a rush of movement caught his eye. He glanced up as a man - Who was he? - stepped up behind his friend and then Dick’s face contorted in shock. As if someone had cut his strings like those of a puppet, Wally’s friend collapsed at his attacker’s feet.

“ _NO_!” Wally screamed. The word ripped its way out of his throat.

The fog that had clouded his mind disintegrated as horror tore through him, dragging the last of his memories back with it. Instinctually, Wally sped up his molecules, slipping his hand through the metal shackle on his wrist as through air. Snarling, he launched himself at their enemy.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Savage bent over Nightwing’s body, yanking hard at his weapon but it had gotten lodged against the young man’s spine. The nick in the blade had caught on one of the vertebrae. Nightwing grunted in pain at the movement, gasping in shock at the unexpected assault.

Growling in aggravation at the thought of losing his one prized possession, Savage released it and stepped back. Perhaps it was fate that he, too, should leave the dagger behind, embedded in the body of his victim as it had once been left with him.

The scream that rent the air didn’t belonged to Nightwing, however. That came from his captive, the speedster. Savage didn’t see the attack that hit him with the power of a locomotive.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wally launched himself at Savage with a highly accelerated speed, something Kid Flash hadn’t been able to do from a stationary position before that day. Always before it had taken a running start. The tackle was powerful enough to send the two tumbling and skidding across the tiles, knocking over tables that had been bolted to the floor. It might have hurt had Wally been capable of feeling anything other than a blinding rage.

Savage’s body hits the far wall with enough force to crack the reinforced concrete wall. Mercy never entered his mind as Wally began pounding Savage’s face over and over like a jackhammer. The sound of his fist connecting with flesh was so fast that it resembled the staccato rhythm of machine gun fire.

“You bastard!” Wally snarled into his hamburger face. “I will _kill_ you!”

Savage brought his arms up to block further blows. “Kill me?” he laughed, bloody spittle flying from his ruined mouth. “Or save your friend? Is my temporary death worth more to you than his life?”

His words were barely recognizable, but it was enough. Wally’s fist froze in mid-air.

“I guarantee, if Nightwing dies, it will be forever.”

Grabbing Vandal’s shirt, Wally slammed him back against the wall one last time. A millisecond later, he was kneeling next to his friend - his _best_ _friend_ who had given all he had in order to save Wally from the clutches of Vandal Savage and the Light.

Perhaps he should care that Savage would escape, but Wally could only care about at this point was the bloody fluid leaking from around the pearl-handled blade in Dick’s back. Blood-tinged liquid that the speedster knew was, in fact, cerebrospinal fluid.

“Oh God! Don’t let this be happening,” Wally whispered to whatever deity was listening. He tried to reassure Dick that he was there for him. “Nightwing? Wing? Can you hear me? You’re going to be okay, buddy. I’ve got you now,” he said loudly.

Dick still lay where he fell, unable to move from his position on his side. “I can hear you,” he gasped out, “. . .just fine. He stabbed me . . . in the back . . . not the ears.”

Wally blinked back his tears, snorting in hysterical laughter. “Stop it! Don’t be an ass. I can’t think when you make me laugh.” His hands hovered over him, unsure if he should remove the weapon or if that would only make things worse.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dick laughed at his friend; it was a sharp, abrupt sound that ended in a whine. Gritting his teeth, he tried to feel for the wound behind him. The pain was staggering in its fury, but he could tell there was something wrong. The pain was rocketing upward from his waist, extending throughout his torso, and threatening to take off the top of his head but . . . but from below his waist there was . . .

 _Nothing_!

Below his waist, he felt _nothing,_ and it terrified him.

Wally caught his hand, pushing it away. “Don’t. Trust me, you don’t want to do that.”

“Is it . . . Is it bad?” Dick asked hesitantly.

Was that him talking? He sounded scared, like a frightened child. He was also having trouble catching his breathe. The pain seemed to rob him the ability to distance himself from the situation, prevented him from regaining his calm.

“It’s . . . not good.” Wally answered weakly.

“I need to get up,” Dick blurted abruptly.

Some small part of his brain was warning him that this was a bad idea, that he was going into shock, but nothing was more important at that moment than climbing to his feet. If he could just stand up, Dick knew he could walk this off. He just had to walk this off . . .

Unable to lift himself more than a few inches before a shriek of pain flew up Dick’s spine and through his skull. Through clenched teeth, he screamed as the world turned black and red around him. He slapped the floor in impotent rage as tears of pain and terror leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

 _Oh, God_. . . He cried out silently, . . . _Help me_!

He really screwed up this time. Batman was going to kill him . . .

That is, if he didn’t die first.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What are you doing?! _No_! Stop it! You can’t get up, Wing. Don’t move,” Wally yelled at him. “ _Stop trying to move, damn it_!”

“Both of you should try to move,” Vandal Savage’s muffled voice drifted over Wally’s shoulder, “although, only one of you has a prayer of outrunning what is coming.”

“What are you still doing here? Do you _want_ me to kill you?” Wally snarled at him.

“Tens of thousands have tried, boy” Savage admitted. “Few have ever succeeded. I am back before they can clean the blood from their daggers. In the end, it is always my enemies who are condemned to Sheol for eternity.”

Furious, Wally leapt to his feet, shoving Savage away from them.

“I’m more than willing to try _my_ hand at it, you, sonofabitch” Wally growled at him.

Savage laughed, tossing something shiny to him. Instinctively, Wally caught it out of the air. Glancing down at the object, Wally frowned at the ancient, bejeweled scabbard before looking back up at the immortal.

“It’s a matched set,” Savage said casually. “It seems a shame to break it up. It’s quite valuable, you know. Genghis Khan gifted me with it a long time ago.” His mouth twisted in a parody of a smile. “Tell Nightwing, he may enjoy it with my compliments should he live.”

Snarling, Wally moved to throw the item back when Savage stayed his hand with another startling announcement.

“By the way, I’ve set several explosives in and around my castle,” Savage told the speedster. “It will destroy everything in a half mile radius in less than five minutes. Nightwing, I’m afraid is doomed but, one wonders what will become of the rest of your friends when that happens?”

 _Artemis_! _The team_ . . .

Wally looked back at Dick. He wasn’t sure who all was here, where they were, or if he would be able to get everyone to safety in time! Would he be faster now or had his retrieval left him even slower than he had been before?

 _Fuck_!

“If you leave now, you might be able to save the rest of your friends. Forget Nightwing,” the bastard said as he moved back to the door he came through. “Based off what I know of his injury, I believe he would thank you for the kindness.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“S’okay, Wally,” Dick panted, the pain made it hard to think, harder to talk. “Link's back up . . . contacted team . . . Evacuating . . . _Go_!”

Wally leaned over him. “Go? Are you crazy? I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“You _have_ to!” Dick snapped through clenched teeth. “Don’t let this . . . be in vain.”

“In vain? What are you talking about?”

“Go . . . _Please_ ,” Dick groaned. “We came . . . _for you_.”

Wally scrubbed his eyes angrily. “You _shouldn’t_ have! I’d have escaped from that thing eventually.”

“Wally, please . . . I-I can’t . . . lose you . . . again,” Dick insisted, desperate to complete his mission, desperate to save his friend. “It can’t . . . be my fault . . . not this time, too.”

“That wasn’t your fault, you idiot.”

Tears of pain and regret slid down Dick’s face. “Artemis . . .” he reminded his friend, “she’s waiting . . .”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wally couldn’t see any help for it. Dick shouldn’t be moved but there was a bomb.

 _Bombs,_ he corrected himself. _Plural_ . . .

He felt like he was trapped inside a bad B-rated movie without the script. The odds that Dick might walk again after this dropped from needing a miracle to nonexistent but, he’d be alive . . . And, if they lived long enough, Dick might one day forgive him for what he was about to do.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” Wally told him, “This is going to hurt.”

“Wha-?”

Wally slipped his arms beneath Nightwing’s body, carefully so as to not dislodge the dagger. Removing the blade without medical personnel standing by could mean Dick might bleed out.

“I hope to hell you’re right about the others escaping. Now hang on because I’m about to save your life.” Wally picking him up as gently as he could. With a cry of agony, Dick collapsed against his shoulder, unconscious at last.

 _Good_ , Wally thought. _It’s better that he isn’t awake for this part_.

Wally sped out of the room. All he knew was they were down and to get out of here, he needed to go up. It took time to find his way out of the maze of corridors and multiple dead ends, easily thirty whole seconds, but he was carrying someone and had to go slow. He knew he found the right path when he discovered the half-risen bulkhead. From there it didn’t take long before they emerged into the great room of the keep.

_A real-life, honest-to-God castle. Who would have believed it_?

Wally kicked open the door, his speed adding to the power of it – enough so that the solid oak, seventy-pound panel of wood was torn from its metal hinges, flying across the bailey green. Once beyond the curtain wall was open fields, allowing Wally to pour on speed, praying he could get out of the blast area before the bombs went off. A few seconds later, he had caught up to the others.

They didn’t even bother with camouflage mode, he thought, watching the bioship racing away from the castle. The ship wasn’t going its top speed, he noticed, and knew the team was risking being caught by the blast because they were unwilling to leave him and Dick behind. The only way to ensure they escaped in time was simply to make sure he was away himself. He was passing the bioship when the castle exploded.

 _No_! _It was too soon. They were not yet clear_ . . . Savage had lied about when the bombs were going to go off.

The edge of the shockwave plowed through, knocking the bioship end over end. It was going down! The wave caught Wally a millisecond later. The force of it flinging Nightwing out of his arms as Wally tumbled along the ground for several long yards over sand and stone.

The darkness engulfed him before the dust and debris could settle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REACTIONS?? Wally is rescued, but at what cost?


	6. A Brother's Remorse

Slowly, he became aware of his surroundings. Consciousness didn’t sweep over him but took its time, dragging him back up from the murky depths. Reality, too, came to him in spurts, little bits and pieces of the world swirling back to him. _Dizzy_ . . . He felt dizzy again but, this time, without the billions of images flashing across his vision, playing games with his sanity. The darkness felt cool and calm, however, despite the spinning. Eventually though, gravity made itself known and he discovered that he was laying on his back. A rock was grinding itself into his hip he noticed as he moved from awareness to annoyance to pain over what felt like a thousand years.

Other sounds followed as the ringing in his ears faded. Noises began to separate themselves out enough that Wally could begin to make out a word or two being spoken.

“ . . . lly. Can . . . ear me? Wal . . . up! . . . ease, wake . . .”

“Nngh,” he groaned. “W-Wha . . .?”

“Wally? Please, baby, say something! Let me know you’re alright.”

 _That voice_! _I know that voice_. A glimpse of sunshine hair and warm, cocoa eyes accompanied that sweet, scratchy voice that made him want to laugh. _If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up . . ._ _Ouch_!

Except that rock currently embedding itself into his flesh refused to let him drift. Awareness had crept up on him until now, but suddenly it pounced. Wally came awake with a start, jerking upright, he nearly collided, forehead to nose, with a blonde wearing a tiger-mask. The world tilted dangerously onto its side, forcing him to grasp the woman’s shoulder.

“Are you okay? Speak to me, Wally! Tell me you’re still with me.”

He squinted. “A-Artemis?”

Tears of disbelief and joy were streaming from beneath her mask. “Yes, it’s me!” She laughed. “I’m called Tigress now. Oh God, Wally, I thought you were dead! All this time . . .”

She threw herself into his arms and he fell back under their combined weight. Where was his strength now? He looked down at the bundle of woman in his arms and grinned, hugging her in return. He hurt all over and was so exhausted he thought he could sleep for a year, but he would bear up through it all because he didn’t want to miss another moment with his ‘little ‘Mis’.

“I thought so, too, babe. I never expected to see you again but then Nightwing was there and he . . . and . . . and he . . . Oh no! _Oh God_!” Wally cried out as his most recent memories returned in force.

Shoving Artemis to the side, he struggled to his feet, swaying as he searched the area around him for his friend. Wally had fallen when the force of the blast caught up with them and he had dropped him . . . _Oh God, Dick_!

“ _Nightwing_! Where is he? Please . . . help me find him! He’s been injured. Savage . . .” His knees gave out and only Artemis’ arms saved him from falling on his face.

“Easy, Wally,” she warned him. “You need to sit down before you fall down.”

He couldn’t, though, not until he knew for certain Dick had survived their escape. He spun around, nearly falling again if not for Artie’s support. _There_! _That guy in the bomber jacket and the red helmet was kneeling beside someone. Who was he_? Wally didn’t recognize him, but the new guy was holding Nightwing in his arms, cradling him like a child as he called for help.

Superboy . . . Conner got to them there first, followed quickly by M’gann and Kaldur and Roy.

 _Dear God, this was the original team_! _All of them . . . together again_! _They had all come to rescue him, so why had Dick been alone when he had freed Wally from the pod_? _Why the hell hadn’t someone been there to watch Nightwing’s back_?

“Be careful!” Wally called out. “Savage stabbed him!”

“What?” Artemis gasped. She had been so caught up in her own emotions after seeing Wally again, she hadn’t noticed that Nightwing wasn’t getting up.

“Savage,” He repeated. “When Dick was freeing me, that bastard snuck up and stabbed him in the back.” Weak and suffering from vertigo, Wally sagged against her.

Unable to bear his weight, Artemis lowered Wally to the ground as gently as she could. “Sit here,” she told him. “You’re obviously not at full strength yet.”

Panic welled up inside of him. She didn’t get it, didn’t realize the seriousness of Dick’s injury. Who could? It was inconceivable to imagine the acrobat being grounded for an hour, let alone for li- . . . He couldn’t say it. It would never even come to that if his friend died from his injuries first.

“No, you don’t understand,” Wally told her. “The knife might still be in him. Artie, listen to me. Dick couldn’t feel anything in his legs and then, when the blast wave hit us – I-I dropped him. I don’t even know if he’s still . . . he's still . . .”

“Oh no. Oh God,” she breathed, paling at the implication. “Stay here,” she ordered, leaping to her feet. Spinning on her heels, she ran towards the others.

“Stop,” she yelled at them, waving. “Don't move him!”

Wally watched helplessly as Artemis joined the team where they’d gathered around their fallen teammate. He couldn’t stay behind, however, and forced himself to stand. Although the dizziness nearly sent him back to his knees, Wally plowed through it, staggering the remaining distance between them.

Dick was unconscious. Someone had lowered him onto his side. Impossibly, the damned knife had remained buried in his back. When Conner reached for the blade, the red helmet guy stayed his hand.

“No! Don’t touch it! He needs to be in a medical facility before its removed. It’s the only thing preventing him from bleeding out,” the stranger snapped.

His voice seemed familiar, but Wally felt like it was deeper than it should have been - which made no sense. Although, he tried and failed to put a name to this new guy, he decided that whoever the red helmet was, it was obvious he cared about what happened to Nightwing, and for that reason alone made him alright in Wally’s book.

“Red Hood is right,” Kaldur told them, his still being the voice of reason.

Conner backed off. “Then what are we supposed to do? He’s still bleeding.”

Artemis looked up, stricken. “Guys? That’s spinal fluid, not blood . . . Or, at least, not _just_ blood.”

“Fuck this!” Will yelled, flinging his bow away in frustration. “Do you mean we came all this way to save Wally only to get Dick killed?”

Furious, Wally shoved Will to the side. “You’re giving up on him already? You, son of a bitch! Dick just risk his life to save me. Something he’d have done in a heartbeat for you – for any of you!”

Artemis stepped in before things could escalate. Every second they argued amongst themselves was another second Dick wasn’t receiving the care he desperately needed. “No one’s giving up on him, Wally. We’re going to do everything we can to save him.”

“He’s not dead yet,” Red Hood told them angrily. “We’ve just got to get him home - to Gotham. Batman won’t let him die.”

“No,” Kaldur cut in. “Gotham City is too far - a half a world away from our location. The Watchtower will be nearly overhead by now. We can shave an hour off if we take him there instead.”

“Whatever you’re going to do,” Red Hood snapped, “just shut up and do it already. He’s dying!”

Kaldur turned to the others. “M’gann, call the ship and bring us the back board and neck brace. I will let the League know we are on our way with a critical case. Conner, put pressure on the wound as best you can but do not jar the knife,” The Atlantian held out his hand to Wally. “It is good to see you alive and well, my friend. How do you feel?”

Despite the situation, Wally smiled, taking Kaldur’s hand and pulling his friend into a hug. “It’s good to be back, and I feel okay,” he assured him, slapping him on the back, “thanks to Nightwing.”

Kaldur’s smile slid away. They looked down at their fallen comrade with worried expressions. “We are going to take care of him. He will pull through this, you will see. His stubbornness will not let him do otherwise. Now, excuse me. I must inform the Watchtower so they may prepare for Nightwing’s arrival.” Pulling out a communicator from his belt, he moved away to make the call.

Wally didn’t envy him that conversation.

“From his mouth to God’s ear,” Will murmured as he stepped over to wrap his arms around the speedster. “And you, back from the dead! Why am I surprised? This makes two of you now.”

Wally grunted from the strength of Will’s welcome. When he leaned back, Wally tilted his head quizzically. “Two of us? What do you mean ‘ _two_ of us’?”

Jerking a thumb in Red Hood’s direction, Will asked, “I don’t suppose you recognize him with his hood on but he had to find a new gig since someone else is currently occupying the Robin mask.”

Wally frowned, looking back and forth between the two of them. “His _Robin_ mask? You’re not talking about Tim, are you? Did something happen?”

Artemis stepped into his other side, sliding an arm around his waist to give him some much-needed support. “No,” she told him, “not _Tim_.”

Wally scowled at the two of them. “The only other Robin besides Dick and Tim was . . .” His eyes widened comically. “You’re kidding me? Seriously?” He spun back toward the new guy, nearly taking Artemis with him when he stumbled in his shock.

The Red Hood used one hand to thumb the latch of his helmet open and pulled it off. He was masked beneath his helmet as well, but Wally knew the shape of that stubborn chin, the smirking lips, the slightly crooked nose from a break he received on his first solo patrol. 

“Welcome back, Wallace,” Jason said. “Did you forget about me already?”

“ _J-Jason_?! It _is_ Jason, isn’t it? _My God ._. . _How_?” he gasped. “I mean, I went to your funeral!” He rubbed his eyes, having trouble believing what they were telling him.

“Nice to hear,” Jason smirked. “At least, one of us was there.”

“What do you mean? You mean, you weren’t?” He laughed suddenly. “I guess you weren’t if you’re here now . . . and alive.”

“Let’s just say that no one thought to check the casket first and leave it at that.” Jay shrugged carelessly, then scowled as he glanced behind him. “What’s taking M’gann so long?”

There was more to it than that, but Wally didn’t pursue the story. Plenty of time to ask about it after Dick was safe.

The Martian bioship decloaked, the door appearing in its side. M’gann exited the ship with the backboard floating along behind her, necessary in order to transport Nightwing to the Watchtower without causing more damage. Using her telekinesis, M’gann lifted Nightwing up as Jason, Conner, and Will supported his spine, carefully positioning Dick on his side to prevent dislodging the knife. It was precarious but they couldn’t risk moving him anymore that he already had been moved. Kaldur followed, announcing that he would be flying the ship to the Watchtower so M’gann could concentrate on keeping Nightwing stable during the trip.

Any smiles for Wally’s resurrection were lost in the concern they all shared for their fallen teammate. As Nightwing floated in and out of a consciousness, he moaned in pain despite the care being taken with him. Shock kept him insensate to his surroundings, spurring M’gann to produce a blanket to keep him warm. The jubilation they should be feeling over the return of one of their own had been overshadowed by their fear for the life of yet another one of their members.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Martian bioship was incredibly fast, but when you were forced to watch over your unconscious brother as he lie broken and bleeding, the knife that stabbed him still embedded in his back, it couldn’t fly fast enough.

His helmet lying forgotten nearby, Jason sat with his knees pulled up and arms resting across them on the floor beside his brother. He stared off into the distance, stone-faced, as his mind raced over the events leading up to this. The rest of the team watched him cautiously and Jason was thankful his red domino mask lay between them. Everyone was aware that he had been Nightwing’s backup. Everyone knew exactly he had rejoined the fight in the bailey alone. From Kid Flash’s account, it was clear that Nightwing had been alone when he rescued Wally, alone when Vandal Savage had stabbed him.

It had been _his_ responsibility to watch his brother’s back - his sole responsibility. It was the only fucking reason he had come, and he had failed.

It didn’t matter that Nightwing should have been capable of watching his own damned back. It didn’t matter that his brother had ordered him to return to the others while he went on alone. Jason should have known better than to leave him to his own devices. Sure, it was true that he hadn’t known where the idiot had disappeared to once Jay had finally broken through the bulkhead, but it shouldn’t have been all that difficult to track him down . . . He should have just tracked him down.

 _Since when have I started taking orders from Dick again, anyway_?

“Do you want to talk about it?” M’gann asked him quietly where she kneeled next to the fallen hero.

He sighed. M’gann was adept enough that she could hold Nightwing immobile while chatting it up with Jason, only Jason didn’t _want_ to talk. He was perfectly fine brooding in miserable silence as he berated him with his guilt.

 _Maybe if I ignored her_ . . .

“He’s going to be okay,” she told him softly. “My uncle and Dr. Midnite are already at the Watchtower waiting for us to arrive. They’ll take good care of him.”

“You _know_ that for a fact, do you?” he said, letting his eyes focus on her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that your powers included precognition.”

She blinked at his biting tone. “I . . . They don’t, but it helps to keep a positive attitude. We have to have faith that . . .”

That made him laugh but it wasn’t a joyful sound.

“Faith?” The word came out harsh. He couldn’t believe her naivety. “Martians age faster than humans, correct?” At her nod, he continued. “You were, like, _fifty_ when you joined the team and now, you’re even older.”

“Well, that’s true but Martian adolescence lasts far longer than humans. I’m technically equal to a twenty-four-year old on earth,” she told him.

“Twenty-four, and you can sit there with Nightwing lying between us - that fucking knife sticking out of his back, for God’s sake - and tell me that everything is going to be just hunky-dory?” Jason asked her, incredulous. His voice rose in volume with every word. “What exactly are you expecting to happen? Do you think the League is going to save him?”

M’gann hesitated, startled by his vehemence. “Well . . . Yes.”

“Where was the League when Wally died? Hell, where were they when we went to save him, for that matter?” He had everyone’s attention now, but he didn’t care as he screamed at them. “ **The fucking League can’t even save themselves! Wally’s probably going to be okay. The team will be okay too, eventually - but _Nightwing_?!** N **o matter what attitude you have, no matter your faith, _Nightwing is NOT going to be O-Kay!"_**

“Jason, stop . . .” Artemis began.

“No! Lie to yourselves if you want, but not to me,” he spat, glaring at all of them, breathing hard.

He took a moment to calm down and, when he spoke again, his voice was modulated, almost calm, but the anger remained, simmering just beneath the surface. But that was normal for him. Jason couldn’t remember a time when he'd been anything other than angry.

“This isn’t some kind of goddamn fantasy world where the good guys always win, and the heroes never die.” Jason looked down at the guy he spent years trying to emulate, the person he had tried so hard to become. “Nightwing isn’t going to magically flip his way out of this one.”

It was silent as Kaldur maneuvered the bioship into the landing bay. While they waited for the air to be pumped back into the bay area, Artemis stood up and walked to him. Next to Dick, she was the only one who had taken the time to know him.

“Jason,” she began. “I know how worried you must feel right now, but M’gann’s right. We have to keep the faith. How can you not believe in miracles when you’re standing here with us? Now Wally is here too when we all thought . . .”

Jason sliced the air between them with his hand angrily. “Don’t you get it, Artie? There was no fucking miracle because Wally was _never_ dead! And my resurrection was more a curse than it was a miracle,” he told her derisively. Snapping his fingers in the air in front of her face, Jay leaned in, hissing, “You guys need to wake the fuck up because this is Dick’s reality now. Real people don’t get a knife to their spines and walk away from it. Nightwing would have been better served if West would have left him in the castle to die.”

“Jason!” M’gann gasped in shock.

“Shut the fuck up, you little prick,” Wally growled. Pushing himself up to his feet, he wavered unsteadily. “Where the hell were you while all this was going on?”

Jason leaned down to grab his helmet. “The biggest mistake I ever made was bringing that tape to Dick that said you were alive,” he said, pulling the helmet over his head.

He turned toward the door, refusing to look in Artemis’s direction because had Jason known when he had overheard Ra’s and Talia talking that this was to be the outcome, he never would had told Dick about any of it. But after everything Artie had done for him, he couldn’t bring himself to look her in the face. While he was sorry his words hurt her, Jason wouldn’t take them back. It was the truth . . .

When it came down to the life of his brother or the life of his brother’s best friend, family won every goddamn time.

The hatch opened to reveal several Leaguers rushing in with a gurney, ready to assist the injured party. Jason didn’t bother waiting around. He wasn’t in the mood for a reprimand and he didn’t deserve their comfort.

 _Not that anyone_ _would bother trying after what he just said_. Jason shoved past everyone, ignoring curious glances. His return wasn’t exactly common knowledge for good reason. The Lazarus Pit had done something to him, changed him, tainted his soul. It would have been better for Bruce, certainly for Dick, for everyone had Ra’s not bothered bringing Jason back.

No one knew the identity of the downed hero yet. Kaldur hadn’t given out that information when he requested the medical team to be standing by, but they would any second. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the poor schmuck who would be left with the unenviable job of informing Batman that his Golden Boy was down.

The guilt that rose up in his throat threatened to choke him and made his eyes burn.

Breaking the guy’s nose was one thing, but Jason didn’t want him dead – never that! And even should they manage to save his life, Dick would be wishing they hadn’t soon enough when he finally learns that this bird will never fly again.

Certain the team wouldn’t be willing to give him a ride, Jason figured he would have to find his own way home. It wouldn’t matter. No one would be coming after him - except Batman. When Bruce learned who was at fault . . .

 _He would know this was Jason’s fault_ _and he would come_.

Which was fine. If Jason knew one thing, it was that he deserved whatever hell was coming his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REACTIONS??


	7. A Bittersweet Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After three years, Wally West is back in the bosom of his family and friends, but what price would have to be paid for that happiness when his best friend is fighting for survival on the surgeon's table. The life of a hero could be both bitter and sweet at times like these.

The silence that followed in Jason’s wake was short as several Leaguers arrived with a levitating gurney with which to transport the injured team member. All they really knew was that the patient was in critical condition.

At the forefront came Dr. Midnite followed by Martian Manhunter, Black Canary, and the Atom, who had grown to his normal height to better assist. While Canary was surprised by the patient’s identity, she gasped at the sight of the injury itself. If the team had any doubts to the seriousness of Nightwing’s condition, the reactions of their mentors would have erased them.

Midnite used his communicator to contact the medical bay and began barking orders.

“How much has he been moved since the injury?”

The team turned to Wally. They only knew the amount of movement it had taken to get Nightwing on the backboard and into the ship. Everything that had happened before that was unknown. Artemis had her arm around Wally’s waist ever since they had first entered the Bioship; she tightened her hold on him now as if she were aware of the guilt flowing through his veins was thicker than his blood.

It was his fault. The one time in his life that Wally had needed his speed, he had been too slow - too slow clearing his head to realize the danger they had been in, too slow to react when Savage had stabbed Dick in the back with his dagger. Nightwing had risked everything to save Wally from being turned into a puppet by the Light and used as a weapon against the League, and how had he repaid him? Moving him when it was obvious that Dick had a critical spinal injury and then losing his grip on him when the explosion’s shockwave had slammed into them.

 _Too damned slow_ . . .

“There . . . There were bombs. The entire place was set to explode,” Wally choked out. “I’m sorry. I had no choice.”

At the sound of his voice, every eye was on him.

“Kid . . .?” Canary’s voice broke off as her eyes widened in shock. “Oh, dear God! Wally?”

Artemis stepped back as Canary rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck.

“How? We thought you were dead! When did . . .?” she asked.

Interrupting her, Dr. Midnite reminded everyone why they were there. “Save it til later,” he snapped. “Every second counts with this kind of injury. Is there anything else that we should know?”

“Just that it’s bad,” he clenched his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see the looks of recrimination when he told them how badly he screwed up. “I had to move him. I tried to be gentle, but when the blast knocked me off my feet, I-I lost my grip on him. I blacked out after that. When I came to, Nightwing was several yards away. I don’t know what happened to him when he fell.”

“I expect you to stick around, Wally. I may have more questions and I also want to do a thorough check up on you as well as soon as we know that Nightwing is stable.” Midnite told him as they rushed Dick down the ramp and on toward the med bay.

“I’ll expect your report later,” Canary told the team as she followed in the gurney’s wake. “After Nightwing’s been stabilized and Wally’s been seen to.”

Once left to themselves, Kaldur’s worried expression eased knowing Dick was being taken care of. He turned to Wally, placing one hand upon his shoulder. “It is good you are back. You were sorely missed by everyone, although I believe more so by some than by others.” He looked meaningfully toward Artemis. “When Jason happened upon information letting us know you were alive, Artemis and Nightwing spearheaded the mission to rescue you from the Light.”

“Jason is back,” Wally murmured, still shocked at that revelation. “I remember how broken up Dick was when Joker . . . There’s a story I can’t wait to hear.”

“Erm, how about we let Dick tell it?” Artemis suggested as she slid an arm around his waist. “You know, afterwards, when he’s recovering.”

He smiled down at her. Wally had a feeling that she would be clinging to him like a second skin for a while. He sighed, leaning into her. Truth to tell, he was perfectly fine with that. Artemis had long ago become his whole world. What memories he had between his supposed death and waking up in Vandal Savage’s castle were hazy. For him, it was like no time had passed, but . . .

“Um . . . This is going to sound weird but,” he asked, “how long have I been gone?”

“Too long,” Kaldur told him.

“Three years, Wally.” Artemis teared up. “You’ve been gone for three whole years.”

He paused to wipe them away as he tried to wrap his mind around that number. Thirty-six months . . . One thousand, ninety-five days . . . twenty-six thousand, two hundred-eighty hours. He stopped counting and count his blessings. While he would never get that time back, with any luck, he would still have decades to spend with this woman. 

“Three.” Wally obviously hadn’t been dead, or he wouldn’t be standing there right now.

 _So, where have I been_?

“Hey, guys,” Conner called to them from the docking bay. “Will, M’gann, and I are heading towards the med bay. Are you coming?”

As Artemis tugged Wally after her, he was surprised to discover he needed her support. If he had been weak and confused upon waking, that brief run with Dick had cleaned him out. Adrenaline was all that had been keeping him going but, now that Dick was in capable hands, Wally was crashing. Artie looked up in concern.

“Did they not feed you?” she asked him. “Savage had you for at least a week; did he not bother to feed you in all that time?”

He could tell she was becoming indignant on his behalf. Sweet, but he needed calories, not sentiment. She could rant about Vandal’s mistreatment while he depleted the Watchtower’s cafeteria of anything edible. Wally remembered what the place was like back when he first met Robin. There had only been a regular kitchen then. With more members, the Watchtower needed more support and a cafeteria had been designed to accommodate the additional mouths. Superheroing worked up an appetite.

Shrugging, he answered her. “Truth be told, I’m having a hard time remembering anything before Dick woke me up.”

“Kaldur, you go ahead without us,” Artemis told him. “We’re going to swing by the cafeteria on our way there.”

“Do you need help?” the Atlantean asked.

“Wally will be fine once he eats something,” she assured him.

“But Dick . . .” the speedster began as concern for his friend formed a knot in his gut.

“Don’t worry. Dick’s being cared for,” she reminded him, “but, you won’t do him any good if you collapse on the way there. That you are walking and talking right now is nothing short of miraculous.”

When her tears returned, he looked into those beautiful chocolate-brown eyes and felt a stab of fear upon realizing how close the Light had come to turning him into a traitor. If anything had happened to Artemis . . . He couldn’t imagine wanting to live in a universe without her, that he could have been made the instrument of her demise . . . He shuddered.

Concerned, Artemis waved Kaldur on. “We’ll meet you there. Kid needs food before he drops.”

As Kaldur disappeared through the door, Wally tugged Artemis into his arms.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s been three years, babe. What do you think I’m doing?” Wally smiled, dipping his head.

“You’re stomach . . .” she murmured as his lips brushed over hers.

“Oh, I’m hungry alright,” he teased. “For you . . . My stomach can wait while I do this.” Dipping his head, Wally kissed her and, like it has the very first time, his world seemed to shift back onto its axis.

Oh, there were still troubles, Dick for instance, but as long as he had Artemis with him, he’d get through it. He wasn’t going to take his life for granted any longer. He had another chance to do this right and he knew exactly what he wanted this time around.

“Now _this_ is heaven,” he murmured into her hair when they came up for air. “This perfect moment.”

The moment was ruined, however, when his belly rumbled.

She laughed at him. “No. This is the hangar deck on the Watchtower. Come on, Kid Stomach. Let’s get you fed.”

As Wally followed her out of the bioship, a thought crossed his mind. “Does this mean that you’re older than me, now?”

“Oh ho, you don’t want to go there, Mister,” she chided him teasingly.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a grin. “I am dating an older woman. You can be my sugar mama!”

“Oh, God, Wally, stop!” Artemis begged, laughing. “Just wait until . . .” she gasped. “Your parents, Wally! And Barry and Iris! We need to tell them we found you, that you’re alive.”

His stomach gurgled loudly. “We do,” He agreed, “but I think you’re right. Everything else can wait until _after_ I eat.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

It felt like forever navigating the corridors of the Watchtower to him. The time it took couldn’t all be attributed to Wally’s lack of energy, though. A good portion of it could be blamed on League members stopping to welcome him back to the land of the living.

Wally blinked at the number of new members there were. Some he had never even heard of before, while others, he’d never had the opportunity to meet. The one hero Wally had hoped to run into had yet to put in an appearance. Hawkgirl had related to him that his uncle was currently busy reigning in the Rogues in Central City but assured him that a message had been sent to return to the Watchtower once he finished.

The cafeteria had been renovated recently, he noted, from the last time he had been here for a visit. It was bigger, he supposed to accommodate all those new members. Several called out to him in surprise and joy, but food had become the priority now. Leaving Artemis to field questions, Wally headed for the serving line. Desperate, he began grabbing food directly from the display, eating it where he stood as his strength began to return.

“Wally, hey! Leave some for other people,” Artemis’ voice cut through the static that was playing through his head, bringing him back to himself.

He glanced down the aisle and winced. Empty plates were scattered in his wake. Now that his belly wasn’t completely empty, he had sense enough to feel embarrassed. He looked at the people around him, chagrined.

“Um, sorry, guys,” he said. “My last meal was three years ago.”

Laughter answered him.

“No worries, mini-Flash,” a tall, blond man told him. He wore blue and gold and wore a visor instead of a mask.

“That would be Kid Flash,” Wally corrected automatically. “I’m sorry; I don’t think we’ve met. You are . . .?”

“Booster Gold,” was the reply. “And you wouldn’t have. You disappeared before I made my appearance, but I’ve heard plenty about you. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Another unknown hero stepped up beside Booster Gold. “I’d bet you’ve got a really fine tale to tell, though, don’t you?” asked a Lone Ranger type.

Wally shrugged. “Not really. I don’t remember much about it.”

“Well now, maybe it will come back to you after a bit,” the cowboy smiled at him. “I’m the Vigilante, by the way.”

“Aren’t we all?”

With that thought, worry for his friend reasserted itself and returned to its priority spot. Wally knew he shouldn’t be lingering when Dick was fighting for his life. The question remained, should Dr. Midnite manage to save his life, what sort of life would it be after this? He turned to Artemis to suggest they head to the medical bay when a gust of wind blew through the cafeteria.

“Wally?!” Flash gaped from just inside the entrance.

“Uncle Barry!” Wally grinned at the stunned expression on Flash’s face.

“Wally! Oh, God,” Barry was suddenly right there, picking his nephew up and hugging him for all he was worth. “I thought . . . We thought . . . I didn’t believe it when the news came through the comm,” Flash stammered too quick for anyone other than his nephew could follow. “I came as soon as I heard.”

Wally was laughing. “I’m really here. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. You can set me down now.”

“Look at you! You haven’t aged at all!” Barry couldn’t believe his eyes. He set his nephew back on his feet but continued to hold onto Wally’s shoulders. “Are you okay? Were you injured? Where in God’s name have you been?”

“I’m fine. I was feeling peckish when we got here, but I got a little something to tide me over,” Wally smiled sheepishly at the chaos left in his wake. “As for where I’ve been for the last three years, I’m not sure. I think I was caught up in the Speed Force.  
  


“Wait,” Barry gaped. “The Speed Force isn’t a place . . . Is it?”

“If it isn’t, then where was I for the last - what was it?” he ran a hand through his hair. “Three years? I still can’t get over that. It boggles the mind, Unc. I mean, to me, it feels like I saw you only yesterday.”

“How did this happen? When did you get back?” There were too many questions Barry wanted to ask him.

“I don’t know exactly. What year is it? As for how . . .” He glanced at Artemis as she took his hand. He was no longer hungry, but his emotions were still just under the skin. He was barely holding it together. “Vandal Savage pulled me out, but thankfully the team rescued me before he could program me like he did Roy . . . Oh, um, I guess he’s calling himself Will now.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” Barry beamed at him. “Wait til Iris and your parents see you.”

Wally’s face fell. “Don’t tell them about me yet.” At Barry’s expression, he was quick to explain. “I promise, I’ll go see them as soon as I can, but I can’t leave yet.”

“Why . . .” Flash paused. “Wait, I guess they’re waiting for you in the medical bay, huh? To give you a once over.”

“Yes and no. The mission wasn’t a complete success.” His voice cracked. That brief surge of euphoria was fading away as reality was making itself known.

Nightwing was hurt during the mission. We were just about to head up to see if they have any news.” Artemis cut in.

Barry blinked, serious again. “What? Who’s with him now?”

“Dr. Midnite and J’onn have him in surgery right now,” Artemis told him. “Canary and Atom are assisting.”

“He’s in good hands, then. They’ll take care him.” Barry assured them.

“Not this time” Wally whispered. “I-I don’t think he’ll . . . If they’re able to save him, everything is going to change. I don’t know how he’s going to take it.”

Barry frowned, worried more about what was being left unsaid. “I don’t understand. Has anyone contact Batman yet?”

“Kaldur was on his way to do that,” Artemis told him. “He felt like it was his responsibility as the leader of the team.”

Barry nodded, turning to walk with them. “I’ll come with you. Take heart, though,” he encouraged the couple. “If anyone can help him, it will be Dr. Midnite.”

Artemis and Barry walked on either side of him, casting worried looks at him every few steps. He supposed he should reassure them he was fine but, at the moment, all Wally could feel was numb. The worry and guilt ate at him, turning the food he had eaten into a solid block in his stomach. The only reason Wally was free of the Speed Force and the Light was because of Nightwing’s sacrifice and, right now, Dick was hanging on by a thread because of him.

Memories rolled through his mind as fresh as if they were yesterday’s. His anger that Dick had asked Artemis to fake her own death to go undercover with Kaldur who was playing the traitor. His anger at Artemis for agreeing to such a dangerous mission. Dick had known they were trying to get out of the hero life and settle down into normalcy. While Artie had been gone, Wally’s only outlet for his fear and anger had been Nightwing.

Dick had always been the stronger of the two of them despite his being years younger. Even so, that shouldn’t have given Wally the right to lay all his worries and problems on his best friend’s shoulders. Thinking back on it, had Wally rejoined the team, he would have noticed that Dick had been withdrawing from everyone. In his selfishness, he didn’t want to see what the stress of leading the team, running all the various missions, worrying over his two friends and his guilt had they been discovered. He didn’t think about the fact that Dick, barely eighteen and just out of high school was watching over Gotham City in Batman’s absence, mentoring Tim, and the worry he had to be dealing with over the fate of his father and mentor.

He had been blind, mistaking Dick’s emotional withdrawal as donning the stoicism of Batman, blaming him for endangering his friends and teammates for the sake of the mission. He had yelled at him, even punched Dick after the younger man had nearly died in the explosion that took out Mt. Justice out of his own fear, anger, and frustration.

But, in spite of it all, Dick had _done_ it. Almost single-handedly, Nightwing had strategized his way out of what might have been a hopeless situation. He had saved the earth, routed the invaders, and crippled the Light. It was through Dick and Kaldur’s efforts that they had managed to obtain the proof needed to clear the six Leaguers that had been facing criminal charges a half a galaxy away and, in the face of all of that, he had done it without sacrificing a single life.

Although, while that wasn’t the whole truth, neither was it wholly a lie.

Wally had died. At least, that is what everyone had believed. Yet, as soon as Dick had learned otherwise, he had planned and implemented Wally’s rescue, taking the most dangerous job for himself. Now the only one suffering from his heroism was the hero himself.

It hardly seemed fair . . . _This was Dick, for God’s sake_! _He’s the best and brightest of us_.

Squeezing his hand, Artemis saved him from his thoughts. Wally rubbed the moisture from his eyes. What was happening to him? He had been laughing just a few minutes ago, now it was everything he could do to hold it together.

“Are you going to be okay, Kid?” Barry was gazing at him in concern.

“Me?” Wally laughed bitterly. “I’m wonderful, Uncle Barry. Fantastic! Good as new, even,” he told them, his voice rising with every word. “Don’t worry about me. I have a new lease on life paid for, in full, by my fucking best friend.”

His voice cracked at the end, causing Artemis to pull him into her arms. They stood there for a few minutes as she rocked him slowly back and forth, drawing him back down to earth. His uncle rubbed his back in sympathy. He would have been embarrassed, but for that damned numbness. He should be grateful for it because it wouldn’t last. Eventually, a hug wouldn’t stop the dam from breaking if Dick didn’t pull through this.

Jason’s words came back to him at that moment, the part where he said Dick wouldn’t thank him for saving his life . . .

Wally pulled back from there. _One emergency at a time, please_ . . .

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The team had grown since he’d been gone. They were gathered in the waiting room and in groups in the hallway that led to the surgery unit, talking quietly with the younger members who had come from home or from various missions as soon as they’d heard. Heads turned at Wally and Artemis’s entrance. Shrieks of disbelief rang out as he was swamped by friends and colleagues thrilled at his return.

Those who had joined after his disappearance hung back, smiling in his direction, uncertain of their welcome, but caught up in the joy of their teammates. All of them grateful for the respite from worry - short though it was. Wally smiled and nodded, shook hands, exchanged backslaps and hugs, but he felt like he was standing on the outside looking in. The numbness saving him from disgracing himself in front of the young ones.

Oh, he was thankful to be alive and happy to be back in the bosom of his friends and family, with the love of his life. While Wally was busy picking his life back up right where it left off, the price of his happiness had come at a terrible cost, and it would be Dick who was the one being forced to pay it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reactions??


	8. Cold Hard Facts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Batman has now entered the building . . .

Tim set his mask on the edge of the bat-computer as he finished attaching his cape. Bruce was listening to the police scanner chatter, determining where the bulk of the crime was happening in the city. They could cut time if they headed straight to the trouble spots.

“Anything coming out of Arkham?” Tim asked. He picked up his mask, fitting it to his face with spirit gum.

He had checked on Arkham an hour ago, but you couldn’t be too careful with the asylum’s inmates. Personally, he thought Bruce’s money would be better spent redesigning and updating the security of the cells in the hapless facility. In fact, they had done just that only last year for the most dangerous criminals housed there and for the longest period of time on record, Arkham had remained quiet. Until, that is, two months ago when Joker had finally outwitting the security measures and escaped. The designs had been good, however. The escape, they had learned afterwards, had been due to human error.

The Riddler had managed his own release three weeks ago as well by bribing a new guard. Thankfully, everyone else had failed where Joker and Riddler had succeeded However, those two had given the rest of the inmates renewed hope, believing they too would find a way to slip through the automated system and past the guards to make good their own escape.

“All’s quiet on that front.”

Scooting back, Bruce tugged the cowl over his head, adjusting the mask over his face for a semi-comfortable fit. The masks didn’t particularly breathe well which was the bane of Tim’s existence during his teen years. He constantly had to fight breakouts. It wouldn’t do for him to acne in the shape of his mask. How would he explain something like that away?

“We’ll start downtown, then head for the wharf around Midnight. Rumor has it that a large shipment is coming in from Central America around that time.”

“Did they say from where?”

“Columbia.” Batman sent the information to the computer in the batmobile.

“So, could be either drugs or illegal weapons,” Robin noted.

“I believe it will be weapons, but don’t let your guard down. The men involved have no compunction about using their own merchandise to ensure the shipment gets through,” he warned.

Tim paused to scribble that word down. His vocabulary had increased ten-fold since he started working with Batman. Com-punc-tion. He thought it might mean the men wouldn’t feel ‘guilty’ about shooting at them based on the way Batman had used it in a sentence.

“Right. No worries. I’ll be care . . .” Robin trailed off as the computer announced a message was coming in from the watchtower. “Is the League expecting trouble tonight?”

It was not Batman’s turn for watch duty and, as far as Robin had heard, there were no meetings scheduled either for the League or for the Young Justice team. Curious, he hovered nearby as Batman answered it. Mr. Terrific appeared on the screen.

“Terrific, this had better be an emergency. I have an important shipment to thwart tonight,” Batman led off impatiently.

“You’re needed aboard the Watchtower.” Mr. Terrific didn’t beat around. He knew the best way to deal with Batman was to come straight to the point.

“Unless it’s a full-blown alien invasion, it can wait,” Batman snapped. “The League has enough members now that you can handle things without me.”

Robin tilted his head, intrigued when Terrific seemed to hesitate. The man was nothing if not efficient. It was why Batman felt easy enough to not interfere with the way the other hero directed operations. There weren’t many that had achieved that kind of respect with the Dark Knight.

“There was an incident . . .” Terrific did it again. He was hesitating. Robin took a step closer. “The Young Justice team went on an unauthorized mission. They’ve returned successful in their endeavor, but . . .”

 _My team_? Why hadn’t Robin heard anything about this?

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “But what?”

“You are needed aboard the Watchtower. Now,” Terrific added unnecessarily. Now could be inferred from his tone.

Robin’s comm chirped in his ear, alerting him to a communication on the team’s private channel. He tapped the tiny comm-link, switching channels effortlessly from years of practice.

“Robin,” Tim announced. “What’s up? Is this about that secret mission no one felt the need to tell me about?” he asked sarcastically. He hated secrets being kept from him. It hurt that the team felt they couldn’t trust him with the information.

“Robin,” Aqualad’s voice came through so clearly, he might have been standing at Tim’s shoulder. “You are needed on the Watchtower as soon as possible, my friend. It is important that you do not delay.”

Tim glanced over his shoulder at Batman who had just ended his own communication. Whatever this was, it concerned them both. An uneasy knot twisted itself into existence in his belly.

“Right. I’ll be right there.” Robin answered.

“And Robin?” Kaldur’s voice stopped him from cutting communications. “Bring Batman with you.”

The knot tightened and doubled in size.

“Sure. I don’t think that will be a problem,” he murmured as Batman headed in the direction of the Batcave’s zeta-tube instead of to the Batmobile. He cut the line and rushed to catch up with his mentor. “Batman! Hold up! I’m coming, too.”

Batman looked back at him. “I want you to stay and contact Commissioner Gordon. The two of you can still meet the shipment . . .”

“Aqualad just requested my presence on the Watchtower, too. Whatever’s going on requires both our presence.” Robin said as he moved forward with purpose.

Bruce wasn’t going to stop him from accompanying him. Ever since Dick left the team, Tim had taken on a greater and greater role until he was Aqualad’s second-in-command. In fact, the Atlantean had been talking about stepping down himself and turning the team over to Robin completely. ‘I am getting too old for the team’, Kaldur had said. Young Justice had been created for young sidekicks to learn how to work together and on their own without the constant supervision of their mentors, to prepare them for their eventual induction into the League. It was time for leadership to pass to the one best ready to step into Kaldur’s place. With Batman’s training behind him and Tim’s own head for strategy, he was the most logical choice.

Surprisingly, Batman didn’t try to stop him.

“Fine. I’ll contact Gordon with the details as soon as we arrive at the Watchtower. He should have plenty of time to arrange for a detail of his men to reach the area before the ship is scheduled to arrive.” Batman told him.

It was Tim turn to hesitate. “Do you think Gordon’s men can handle it on their own? We could always request for backup. The League or my team should have one or two members free to assist . . .”

“No. I can call in Nightwing if Gordon needs help.” Batman interrupted as he tapped in the codes for the Watchtower.

The alien device hummed as it powered up and the two stepped into the light as the Batcave faded from view. A moment later, the cave was silent but for the screeching of the startled bats overhead.

* * *

A grim-faced Superman was standing in front of the zeta-tube when the two arrived. The knot in the pit of Tim’s stomach turned to ice as Batman stiffened beside him. What could have happened that the League felt it was necessary to send Superman as an envoy? As he moved to slip past them to find his own team, Superman placed a hand on Robin’s shoulder.

“Walk with us, Tim,” Superman murmured. “You’re both going to the same location.”

Tim blinked behind his mask. Superman called him Tim? The only thing worse than that would be if he called Batman Bruce. Bad things usually have to happen for people to call you by your given name while in costume.

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you start talking?”

“Bruce, I think you should hear this from Kaldur,” Clark said before he led the way out into the Watchtower proper. He turned away from the direction that led to the conference rooms. This way led to the lifts that took you to the brig, the cafeteria, and the . . . medical bay.

“I’m not in charge of the team anymore,” Batman reminded him. “The elder members are advanced enough that they handle assigning their own missions now. There are any number of League members that are capable of debriefing them.”

That was true, Robin thought. Batman’s connection to the team had lessened over the years since Nightwing’s resignation as team leader, nearly ending altogether when Barbara decided to pursue her Ph.D. in computer science full time. Oh, Batman still acted as mentor and provided some degree of training, but Tim suspected it was only because there was still a Robin attached to the team. In the last two years, Batman only took report when the YJ team’s missions were directly linked to League business that he had some sort of personal investment in.

“This concerns you,” Clark said as they took the lift. He punched the button for level 29, the med bay. He glanced at Tim. “The both of you.”

Tim swallowed, retreating into his Robin guise even more. He glanced up at Batman beside him and watched Bruce do the same thing. If anyone thought that Batman’s persona was forbidding before, he was downright glacial now, more like a robot than a man. Tim realized that it wasn’t only him that was struggling with a knot of fear in his gut.

When the doors opened, Superman led the way down the hall toward the med-bay. They passed the doors that led to patient care, a larger, communal room that held a number of beds, as well as a few private rooms for those poor unfortunates whose condition were so serious that it required constant monitoring. Tim knew that a couple of Leaguers had even died in the private rooms. Tim frowned as they were being led to the waiting room outside of the surgical unit.

He couldn’t imagine what the problem could be. With Nightwing in Bludhaven and Babs away at the university, the only thing that the Young Justice team held in common for the two of them was Robin himself. But Tim was right here . . .

 _So, who else could it be_?

As they turned the corner, his mouth dropped open. The waiting room was beyond full, with people spilling out into the hallway. _Everyone_ was here - literally the entire team, old and new, as well as several League members. Even Tigress was here sans her mask, sitting with the Flashes! He was surprised since she hadn’t chosen to be an active member since Wally’s death three years ago, only coming in to help out by request, but then Tim’s eyes focused on the figures beside her. There was one too many. One was Barry but . . .

 _Two_ Kid Flashes? What?

Bart was vibrating in place next to this redheaded version. _Who_? Suddenly, Tim gasped before he could check himself.

“ _Wally_?!” Robin gaped. “Y-You’re _alive_!”

Standing up from his seat, Wally faced them with an unreadable expression. “Yeah, I’m back,” he smiled uncertainly, looking uncomfortable.

Tim watched as Artemis reached for his hand, squeezing it in support.

“Oh, my God! How?” Tim glanced around the room and knew there was someone missing. Someone who should be here despite having quit the team. “Does Nightwing know? Did someone think to tell him?”

Hard to imagine that they would arrive here before Nightwing. Dick had been devastated by the loss of his best friend. He should have been the first to learn that Wally was alive.

Wally met Batman’s gaze before looking away. “Did Superman not explain anything to you?”

Aqualad straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall. “I asked him not to,” he announced. “It is _my_ place to give the report from our rescue mission.”

“This is a debriefing? Here? Who was hurt?” Robin glanced around the room again but couldn’t locate the missing member. The entire team was present and accounted for.

Kaldur stopped in front of them. “Let us do this over here,” he said, gesturing to the privacy of the hall they had just come from.

“Here will be fine,” Batman growled. He was getting impatient at all the secrecy and drama. Although he probably didn’t sound any different to the others, Tim heard the worry hidden behind the obvious as did Superman.

The Man of Steel stepped away but didn’t leave the area. He made his way over to Wally and shook the young man’s hand warmly while laying the other on the speedster’s shoulder. Tim turned to the Atlantean he had come to respect since joining the team. Kaldur sighed, and the knot of fear tightened.

“Very well.” He looked down at the floor between them as if gathering his strength for whatever he was about to tell them. When his head came up, Kaldur’s jaw and shoulders were tense with stress.

“Red Hood contacted Nightwing with information about the return of Wally West. From what we know, Vandal Savage discovered Kid Flash was being held in the speed force.” Kaldur paused. “Do you know about Red . . .?”

“I do,” Batman grunted, cutting him off.

The Dark Knight’s posture had become even more rigid upon the mention of his first two previous partners, neither of which were present, Tim noted worriedly. The last time Jason had come around, people ended up bleeding.

“This mission was obviously to retrieve the original Kid Flash,” Batman snapped impatiently. He glanced around the waiting room and hallway again, looking for Nightwing. Tim knew it because he was doing the same thing. “If Nightwing was aware of this, he would have insisted on accompanying you. Where is he?”

Dread was building up as he watched Kaldur flinch slightly. Artemis stood up, but Kaldur waved her back.

“This is my responsibility,” he told her. Artemis looked like she wanted to argue, but Kaldur turned back to them. “The plan was for . . .”

Batman’s voice lowered dangerously. “I don’t care about the plan. Answer my question.”

Kaldur continued, choosing to ignore the danger of refusal Batman’s request in favor of his narrative, but reduced the details to the bare minimum. “During the rescue, Vandal Savage stabbed Nightwing in the back before blowing up his compound. Luckily, Kid Flash, recovered enough by that time, carried Nightwing before the explosions went off. In order to save his life, Kid Flash had to move him despite the potential risk to Nightwing’s spinal cord. Though clear of the building, the shock wave knocked them down, further exasperating his injuries. Nightwing is in surgery now but, I fear his condition remains critical.” Kaldur looked away. “I am sorry.”

Tim’s eyes dropped to Batman's hands; the left one closed into a fist tight enough the leather of his gloves creaked in protest. To anyone else, Batman seemed to take the news without reacting; his emotions, to those unfamiliar to the man beneath the mask, appeared nonexistent. But for Tim, it was clear that the man was barely in control. Emotionless as he might appear to those present, in reality Batman was raging.

Without a word, Batman turned and left the room.

* * *

Whatever response people were expecting, Batman leaving without a word had not been it. Lagoon Boy straightened from the wall he had been leaning against. Furious, he waved a hand at the now empty spot.

“What? That’s it?” he exclaimed angrily. “He just walks away like this is nothing?”

M’gann stood up from her seat beside Conner. “La’gaan, wait! You don’t understand.”

“What’s to understand? That Batman has all the emotions of a sea sponge?” La’gaan growled.

“La’gaan, you must listen,” Kaldur urged as he laid a restraining hand on La’gaan’s arm.

“How could you let him get away with that?” he accused, jerking free of Kaldur’s grip. “By Neptune’s beard, I’m not a coward. He’s going to get a piece of my mind.”

Unwilling to listen to any more excuses, La’gaan stormed after the retreating hero, catching up with him just outside of a private observation room.

“You piece of flotsam! Have you no heart . . .?” Grabbing Batman’s shoulder, Lagoon Boy spun him around to face him.

A gloved hand interrupted La’gaan’s rant, closing around his throat as he slammed him into the bulkhead hard enough to leave a dent. Stunned, the young Atlantean struggled futilely against the older hero’s grip.

Despite La’gaan being accustomed to the pressure of the ocean, he found the human was surprisingly strong, enough so that Batman was proving capable of restricting the Atlantean’s oxygen. La’gaan’s gill slits were ineffective out of water, and he could feel his eyes bulge even as his vision dimmed. Despite his superior strength, La’gaan was suddenly in danger of losing consciousness.

Robin grabbed Batman’s forearm but was unable free his foolish teammate. Even after several years on the team, the Atlantean was still too outspoken and impulsive for his own good.

“Batman, stop! He doesn’t understand,” Robin begged. “He doesn’t know.”

The idea of taking on Batman in an all-out fight was intimidating as rumors of the human’s prowess whispered insidiously through La’gaan’s oxygen-starved brain. It had been said the Bat had taken Superman on more than one occasion and won. He attempted to bend the fingers digging into his throat which only made it harder to breathe.

 _How_? _How was he doing this_?

“Nightwing would never forgive you,” Robin blurted in desperation.

If anything, the fingers seemed to squeeze tighter then, as quickly as the attack happened, it was over. Batman released Lagoon Boy in disgust. La’gaan fell to his knees, gasping for air.

 _Gah! The surface world sucks_ . . .

Scanning the hallway, La’gaan worried that who else might have witnessed his appalling error in judgment. It was empty but La’gaan’s relief was fleeting when he considered just how epic his blunder was. Batman was a founding member . . . Lagoon Boy could be kicked off the team should Batman insist upon it, certainly he could prevent La’gaan from ever being voted into the League if he wished it.

Batman entered the private observation room without either a glance or an apology. As the door hissed shut behind him. Robin kneeled beside his teammate.

“I know you were upset about Nightwing and it was the reason behind your anger,” Robin said, not unkindly, “but, you need to understand, Batman isn’t uncaring; he just chooses not to display it publicly. If he leaves the room, it is because he needed the privacy.”

La’gaan nodded, wincing at the pain the slight movement caused.

“Dr. Midnite is still in surgery now?” Robin asked, waiting for the Atlantean’s confirmation. “If he comes out before Batman returns, we’ll be in here,” he said, indicating the room into which Batman disappeared. “It would be better if you send Midnite in to us. Do it right away. Understand?”

La’gaan nodded again, croaking. “He’s stronger than I thought he would be. Faster, too. Are you sure he’s only human?”

“He’s human all right,” Robin smirked. “Just try not to get him angry.”

The Atlantean blinked in surprise. “You mean that wasn’t angry?” he whispered hoarsely.

Robin shook his head. “Not really. He’s mostly just worried about Nightwing. Try not to take it personally.” Robin patted his shoulder, then he rose to enter the room after the madman. 

* * *

Alone now, Lagoon Boy was more embarrassed than anything. He had miscalculated badly.

Climbing to his feet, he rubbed his throat gingerly. Luckily, his coloring would hide any bruising, although Kaldur and M’gann would both notice. He was considering leaving until he remembered the order that Robin had given him. He would have to go back to the others if only to relay the message on to Dr. Midnite.

Entered the area much more subdued than he had left it, none of the older members even looked at him. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the glances he received from Wonder Girl, Impulse, and Blue Beetle. At least, no one asked him what happened.

 _La’gaan_? M’gann’s voice spoke into his mind. He'd expected she would check on him. _Are you alright_?

 _Yeah, just swell . . . Don’t worry. He didn’t kill me_.

He glanced up to see her smiling back at him sympathetically.

 _Obviously. Batman’s a very private person. Just because he doesn’t show his emotions, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them_ , she thought at him.

He snorted lightly. _That’s what Robin said a minute ago_.

 _I’m sorry. I tried to warn you, but you just rushed out of here so quickly, shutting me out of you mind when you did_.

 _I’m an idiot_.

She smirked. _Yes. You are_ . . .

He looked over, startled.

 _I sure you’ll grow out of it_ . . . _eventually_ , she assured him.

He sighed, settling in for a long wait. Maybe if he closed his eyes, no one would try to talk with him. He gave up that idea when Kaldur sat down beside him. The older Atlantean quietly slipped something into his hand. La’gaan looked down at the packet of pills now sitting in his palm.

“For the pain,” Kaldur explained softly so as to not attract attention. “Do not worry. I do not think anyone else has noticed.”

“Did you see?” La’gaan asked worriedly.

“No, but I did not have to in order to deduce what happened.” Kaldur murmured without looking at him. “I have known Nightwing and Batman for many years. While this is not the first time that Nightwing has been seriously injured, I do believe it is the first time it has been this dire.”

“You could have said something . . .”

“I tried to, my friend,” Kaldur reminded him. “But sometimes the best way to learn is through experience.”

La’gaan wouldn’t forget the lesson he learned today anytime soon. “When dealing with Batman, do so from across the room,” he muttered.

Kaldur smiled, leaning closer to impart a bit of wisdom. “You should be aware that distance is irrelevant when it comes to Batman. He keeps his utility belt stocked with a seemingly endless supply of batarangs that he is not averse to using.”

La’gaan gaped at him.

Nodding, Kaldur added, “His aim is impeccable.”

La’gaan grunted as he tossed the painkillers into his mouth. He grimaced in discomfort as they went down, resisting the urge to rub his neck again. He only hoped that he would begin to feel their effect soon.

“He is very fast. I was surprised by how strong he is as well. I wouldn’t have believed he could cut off my air supply with only a hand.” La’gaan murmured. “Tim said he is human, but I’m not so sure.”

It was interesting to see Kaldur wince in response to his observation.

“He was using an Atlantean pressure point technique,” the older man explained. “Atlantean physiology differs slightly from a regular human. Someone knowledgeable could use such a technique to cause an almost immediate loss of consciousness.”

“I’m Atlantean. How is it I don’t know about this?” La’gaan demanded to know. “How is it Batman knows something about Atlantean physiology that I don’t?”

“To answer your first question: you never asked. As for your second question . . .” Kaldur leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “He’s Batman.”

Frowning, La’gaan glared at the other Atlantean, but Kaldur refused to notice him. “That’s fine for now,” he grumbled as he copied the other man’s position, “but later, you and I are having a conversation.”

Closing his eyes, La’gaan passed the remaining time by imagining the million other ways he might have handled that encounter, searching for ones that didn’t end with Kaldur having to slip him painkillers.

* * *

It was hours before Dr. Midnite stepped through the doors into the waiting area.

“Nightwing is in recovery. His condition is stable,” he announced. The response was immediate as the tension gripping the room for hours finally eased. “Where is Batman? Someone should have contacted him by now.”

“I’m here, Doctor,” Batman stepped forward from where he had been standing alongside the wall. He waited as the doctor made his way unerringly to him by the sound of his voice alone.

Midnite was blind in the light. He had been a brilliant surgeon who, through an accident lost his vision in the presence of any kind of illumination, could now only see in total darkness. Anyone that had assisted him in surgery would have had to wear night goggles in order to function.

“Let’s walk,” Midnite suggested.

He waited until he heard the hiss of a leather cape to follow as Batman the way back to the privacy of the observation room. They were lucky that privacy was seldom needed, considering their line of work, but he was grateful for the foresight the builders had when designing the Watchtower.

Robin took the doctor’s arm, determined to not be left out. “You don’t mind if I join you, do you?” he asked.

Midnite patted the boy’s hand. “Of course not, Robin. I believe you are family also.”

It wasn’t hard to hear the worry in the boy’s voice. If it were good news, there would be no reason for privacy. The doctor would have just announced it to everyone, just as he had a minute before. The door had barely closed behind them when Batman began demanding answers.

“It was a knife. What kind of damage are we talking about here?”

“Do you want to sit down first?” the doctor asked.

Robin swallowed. “Do we _need_ to sit down?”

“Whatever Nightwing needs to make a full recovery, he’s got it,” Batman growled. “You name it. Anything.”

The generous expanse of that offer wasn’t lost to him. Batman had made similar offers on more than one occasion for others injured leaguers. The intensity he heard in the hero’s voice told the doctor that there wouldn’t be any monetary amount too high. He had long suspected that Batman alter-ego was an extremely wealthy man even before he had learned the hero’s true identity. Just as he had always known that the relationship between the Dark Knight and his partners extended far beyond that of mentor and student. It wasn’t a well-known fact amongst the League, although many also suspected it, that each of Batman’s partners were family - his sons in fact, albeit through adoption. There was no doubt that, to Batman’s mind, they might as well have been related by blood.

Knowing this did not make what Midnite was about to tell him any easier.

The doctor sighed. “It’s not going to be so easy this time around, I’m afraid. The knife Vandal Savage used on Nightwing struck the spinal column.”

He heard Robin slide into one of the upholstered chairs as Midnite waited for Batman’s reaction. It took longer to get than he had expected. Finally, . . .

“Were you able to repair the damage?”

He sounded different, Midnite noted. Not as deep as before, the gravelly sound that made his voice so distinctive had disappeared. This, the doctor realized, was the Dark Knight’s real voice. The direction from which it came told the doctor that he, unlike Robin, had chosen to remain standing. The surgeon judged Batman to be roughly eight feet in front of him, slightly to his right. Midnite adjusted his position so that he was facing the man.

“The blade struck the T11 vertebra, breaking off portions of the vertebra and piercing the spine. I understand that there were several bombs and that Kid Flash had been forced to carry him to safety, that a shockwave had thrown Nightwing out of his arms . . . This extraneous movement and the violence of the tumble resulted in damage to several other nearby vertebrae.”

Midnite paused as he listened to the shift in breathing. Robin’s hitched in a way that was distinctive. The boy understood what Midnite was telling them and was having the expected reaction. Batman, however, had stopped breathing altogether.

“So,” Batman cleared his throat, “rehabilitation will be lengthy.”

 _Denial_ . . . Midnite pursed his lips. It was not the reaction he expected from Batman, someone who normally preferred the cold, hard facts in any situation. It _was_ , however, the kind of reaction he might expect from a parent who had received devastating news about a beloved child.

“Didn’t you hear what he said?” Robin snapped, his voice rising in pitch with his emotions as he leapt from his seat.

Midnite laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Robin was shaking beneath his fingers, a fine trembling that grew in intensity.

“Easy,” the doctor murmured just loud enough for the boy to hear.

“I can make a request to Star Labs,” Batman continued. “Perhaps there is some technology available that can help him. Something you may not be aware of yet.”

Midnite decided a repeat of his diagnosis was necessary. He took a more personal approach.

“The blade severed the cord, Bruce. The damage Dick received from being moved and tossed about was substantial throughout the surrounding areas. A certain amount of rehabilitation as well as extensive counseling will be necessary, yes. for Dick to be able to adjust to his new situation.”

“Are you not even going to _try_?” Batman barked, anger creeping into his voice. “If you aren’t able to help him, there might be someone else out there who can.”

“I know this is difficult to accept,” the doctor spoke calmly, “but your son will have to. It will be easier for him to do so if you do not fight what you know is the truth.”

“ _Fight_ is what we do. You do not become exceptional by accepting the faulty diagnosis that one doctor tells you. You get a second opinion and a third, if necessary!” Batman snapped.

“And a fourth? They will all tell you the same thing that I am trying to explain to you. Do you propose to drag him all over the world just to hear the same words given to him over and over again? That is _cruel_ , even for you.” Midnite ground out harshly.

“You don’t _understand,_ ” Batman said through a clenched jaw, “Nightwing won’t be able to accept _this_. He . . . can’t be . . .” Words failed him.

“Paralyzed,” Midnite finished for him, albeit not unkindly. “The word is paralyzed. I’m so sorry, Bruce, but you must understand there is nothing more that I, or _anyone_ , can do for him at this point. Whether either of you accept it or not, Nightwing’s career is over. Dick Grayson will never walk again.”


	9. The Hardest Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " There's nothing is worse than having to give one of your patients bad news . . . It's the one thing I hate about being a doctor." - Pieter Cross, Doctor Midnite.

_Paralyzed_.

The word echoed through Bruce’s skull as he stared down at the body of his eldest son. His eyes drifted against his will down to the motionless shape of now-useless limbs hidden beneath the crisp, white sheet. He brought his gaze back to the young man’s face. Abrasions covered one side of it, from forehead to his jawline, from where he had obviously skidded along the ground. It hurt to see his once-active boy in traction, like he was a bug being displayed, but they couldn’t risk any more movement until he had healed from the surgery.

Normally, Dick would be wearing his mask to protect his identity but the injuries he received when he was flung from Wally arms necessitated that the medical team be able to check his pupils on a regular basis. Visitors were banned for the time being, however, until Dick was awake, and they could see how he took the news. A new mask had been brought up. It lay on the bedside table next to the old, torn one in case he needed to don it, but . . . according to Midnite, that was never going to happen.

He remembered how hard Dick took it when Bruce had taken Robin away from him a few years back. He had been wrong to do that; he understood that now, but the boy had risen up just as he always had whenever life threw him a curveball. Unwilling to accept Batman’s decree, Dick had gone and created a new identity for himself - one that had quickly gained its own reputation even more impressive, more respected than he had enjoyed as Robin. It was what every father dreamed for his child, that his son would one day exceed him, and Dick had . . . in every way that mattered. His son had become every bit as formidable as the Batman but had developed friendships and trust amongst the superhero community that Batman would never be capable of achieving.

The proof of this lay in the numbers that still crowded the waiting room beyond the door.

Despite being told that Dick wasn’t allowed visitors, no one had left. They stayed, as if by their very proximity, they could somehow pass along their strength to their fallen comrade.

 _Who knows? Maybe it could because right now, Dick needs all the help he can get_.

Bruce could use a little of that strength himself as he didn’t know how in hell he would get through the daunting task of explaining Dick’s condition to him. Midnite would be here for that as well, giving Dick the bad news and answering any technical questions the young man might have. He doubted that Dick would accept Midnite’s decree any more than Bruce did. There had to be something someone out there could do . . .

And while Batman’s presence was unnecessary for what came next, the news was better coming from Midnite, Bruce knew that his presence was essential to his son’s wellbeing. He hadn’t always known this, unfortunately, but Bruce liked to imagine that he could still be taught, could learn how to be a father to his boys when the chips were down. Alfred had often despaired of him with good reason. But even Bruce knew that Dick would need someone for this.

 _Tim would be a better choice . . . or Wally, now that the speedster was back. Hell, even Will would be an improvement over me_. But, this time, no one needed to tell Bruce where his responsibility lay.

Savage was still out there. That bastard’s days of freedom were numbered, however. Even now, the Justice League was combing the planet for him, leaving no rock unturned. The moment Dick was stable and no longer needed Bruce standing vigil over him, The Batman would be joining the hunt.

His eyes narrowed. _The immortal will pray for permanent death before I’m done with him_.

Taking a deep breath to calm his anger, Bruce shoved back his cowl, removing his gloves. Now that Dick had been settled in one of the private rooms in the med bay, Bruce needed to regain some semblance of control. He wouldn’t be any help if he were raging about like a bull.

Dick had woken briefly in recovery but sank back into oblivion after a few minutes. He had been too groggy to question anything, just answered when asked his name, the date, and where he was. He had known his name, luckily the person asking had been Dinah, but he hadn’t recognized the med bay on the Watchtower and been confused about the day of the week. Midnite had declared him mildly concussed but stable enough to settle in his room.

Brushing the hair from the boy’s forehead, Bruce noticed movement behind his eyelids. He was beginning to come around again. Would he be aware enough to be told his condition?

Worry ate at him. He couldn’t imagine a worse situation for his son to have to endure; he could only be thankful that his boy was still alive, and Bruce was not planning a funeral instead of his son’s recovery.

“Coming around yet?”

Batman recognized Midnite’s voice without turning around. “Soon,” he answered roughly.

“I need to turn the lights off for a moment,” the doctor warned him a second before plunging the room into darkness.

The brilliant surgeon was day blind. His unusual condition allowed him perfect vision only in complete darkness. Those that had assisted him in surgery had to wear specialized night vision goggles. Batman pulled his cowl back on, flicking the hidden control on his cowl that allowed him to follow Midnite’s progression into the room.

The doctor checked the monitors for Dick’s vitals, his voice coming from the opposite side of the bed. “I’m going to give him a little something in his IV that will bring him around. Dick’s concussion appears to be mild, thankfully. Normally, I would have waited until he could be evaluated before rushing him into surgery, but his injuries had left us no choice.”

“It was reported that he didn’t regain consciousness during the trip here. What else might have caused that?” Batman asked. New details were still trickling in as a more thorough report was given.

“Blood loss, shock. The knife used on Nightwing is enchanted, I’ve been told.”

“Fate?”

“No, Zatanna was able to determine this for us,” Midnite offered. “Ironically, the very magic that nearly killed him had saved his life by remaining in place despite that tumble he took when Kid Flash dropped him. It prevented him from bleeding out during the transport here.”

“Are you saying that his being thrown by the blast is what paralyzed him and not the initial stabbing?” Batman frowned. _Wally will be crushed if that is the case_.

“It is for certain that his paralysis was caused by the knife’s thrust; do not get me wrong. The prognosis would have remained the same. From the moment the knife entered, Nightwing’s career ended, but there are degrees of paralysis. The fall he took ruined any hope of regaining a limited amount of mobility through the help of therapy and braces. Unfortunately, nerve fibers do not regenerate. Until there is a safe, reliable method available capable of jumping the gap between Nightwing’s spinal cord and his legs, his world will be confined to a chair.” Midnite explained.

“Does Wally know?”

“When we consider Dick would be dead had Wally not ran him out of there, I didn’t see the need to add to his sense of responsibility or the guilt he is feeling. I’ll leave the decision of enlightening him up to you.”

“I don’t believe sharing that information would be beneficial,” Batman agreed. The information would only cause more grief should it become known. “Let’s keep that to ourselves, then.”

“Agreed.” Midnite held up a syringe, knowing Batman would be able see what he was doing. “I’m going to bring him around now,” the doctor said as he slid the needle into the IV port. “He’s slept long enough.” When finished, he discarded the sharp, speaking to the computer’s AI. “Lights up at seventy-five percent.”

* * *

_Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep_ . . .

Sound penetrated the fog surrounding him as consciousness dragged him reluctantly to the surface. Dick recognized the confusion that accompanied concussions a little too easily. What did that say about his life? He was familiar enough with this type of injury that even while coming to, he began to prepare himself for the pain that would follow. Pain in his head, behind his eyes . . .

Pain . . . He frowned. It wasn’t nearly as severe as he expected. He hurt, yes, but it was far away. _That wouldn’t last_ , the thought swirled wickedly, making him feel a little nauseous. As the fog cleared, the pain would grow exponentially. Wanting to put it off, Dick allowed himself to slide back towards the comforting darkness.

“Call him.” The voice was familiar, but the memory remained aloof.

 _No. Let’s not_ . . . He leaned toward the oblivion of unconsciousness.

“Dick?”

 _Bruce_ . . .

The darkness receded a bit more, but this voice brought a sense of relief with it. If Bruce were here, Dick knew he would be okay.

“Dick, can you hear me? I need you to wake up now. Come on, son, open your eyes.” Bruce coaxed gently.

He tried to turn his head toward the sound of the voice with lids that felt glued shut. “Nngh,” he grunted as he struggled to lift his hand next.

Why couldn’t he move? Something as off . . . but what it was he didn’t know. He continued trying to wrap his brain around the problem, to fight through the drugged stupor surrounding him.

“Dick stop. Don’t . . .” Bruce hesitated. “Don’t try to move, son, just open your eyes for me. Can you do that?”

Opening his eyes suddenly became an extremely important task. The fog began lifting a little more and with it the beeping of the heart monitor sped up. With supreme effort, his eyelids fluttered, and then he was staring up at the acoustic ceiling tiles and florescent lighting of a hospital room. His eyes rolled to his right and found Bruce leaning over him.

“Br . .” he choked on the word, his mouth was too dry, the kind that came from anesthesia. He must have really done a number on himself. He worked up some spit and tried again. “Br-rucce,” he slurred. “Wha-happen.”

“What do you remember?” Bruce asked him.

Dick frowned; his thoughts jumbled as new information began being processed. Bruce was wearing the Batsuit, but the cowl was removed. And . . . Dick tugged at his wrist; he was definitely being restrained. Struggling to recall the events that led to his current predicament, one word . . . one face came to him.

 _Wally_?

Images and memories flashed through his skull making his brain pound.

“Wally! Jay . . . Jason found . . . Wally’s still alive,” Dick gasped out. The heart monitor announced his increasing panic. “We got to help him!”

“Easy,” Bruce placed a gloveless hand on Dick’s forehead and leaned closer. “Calm down. Wally’s fine. He’s alive and safe. You saved him, son. Do you remember saving him?”

Dick blinked. Bruce just called him ‘son’ twice in a matter of minutes. As much as he loved the reminder, it scared him. Bruce was trying to distract him from something. His concern for Wally, however, was stronger than any concerns for himself at the moment. Scowling, he tried again to pull information out of the scrambled mess in his skull.

“No, I don’t . . . Is he? I-I can’t . . . Wha-What happened?” Closing his eyes, they flew open a moment later as memories began settling into place. There was something about . . . “Ra’s? No, not him - Savage! Vandal Savage is holding him in his compound in . . . in . . . Where? Turkey? He’s in Turkey!”

“Sh. Savage _had_ him, Dick, but you and your team rescued him. Wally’s safe. He’s right here on the Watchtower,” Bruce told him calmly, reassuringly.

“He’s safe? Wally’s safe.” Dick repeated as the words finally penetrated. He could hear his heart rate through the monitor slowing. “The Watchtower? We’re . . . on the Watchtower? We-We did it?”

Bruce smiled. “You did it.”

Everything was alright . . . Wasn’t it? _If everything’s okay, why can’t I move_? _Was I hurt_? Obviously, he was, but that portion of his memories were blank.

“Bruce?” _Easy_ , he told himself. _Keep calm_. . . “What’s – What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I move?”

Something flashed behind Bruce’s dark blue eyes, something akin to panic.

 _Batman doesn’t panic_ . . .

Bruce looked over at something – no, not some _thing -_ some _one_. There was someone standing to Dick’s left. He wanted to look but couldn’t turn his head. Whoever was over there had the answers he needed but Dick was suddenly unsure now that he wanted to know.

 _Stick with Bruce_ , he thought. _Bruce is safe_.

This feeling coursing through him felt similar to being doused with Scarecrow’s fear gas. He hadn’t been. Somewhere in his brain, Dick thought he knew what was going on but the rest of him didn’t want to know and was afraid to find out. Unfortunately, it had been a long time since Dick had allowed himself the luxury of hiding in the shadow of the Bat.

 _Oh, God. Am I really going to do this_? Taking a shaky breath, Dick rolled his eyes to the figure on his left.

* * *

Bruce didn’t need the heart monitor to know his boy was struggling. Now that he was reassured the mission was successful and Wally was safe, Dick was beginning to turn his focus onto himself and was realizing that something was seriously wrong with him. Never had any of his injuries left him in traction.

Midnite’s mask hid the doctor’s face. Dick wouldn’t be able to get the information from the doctor’s expressions. Turning huge eyes back in his direction, Dick sought out comfort. Something that, for all that Bruce wanted to provide, couldn’t give him.

“What happened to me?” Dick whispered.

He was asking for the truth, but . . . Bruce hesitated. How could he tell him _this_?

Fear – real fear, unlike any Bruce had seen in those blue eyes before, appeared. Perhaps, greater even than the fear that had accompanied his parents’ deaths. And why not? This was a type of death as well but, far more personal. The idea of his own death had done little to faze the young hero. To give his life in the service of saving others was honorable. The idea of joining his parents in the afterlife had been considered almost as a reward.

No reward this. Instead, this was the death of a dream. Dick had been abandoned by his own body; left in a position he had never truly contemplated with having to deal.

“Bruce?”

“Dick . . . You’re alive. You’re alive, and . . . and that’s all that matters.” Bruce stammered. Never had his words deserted him like this. What could he say that would make this all better? He would give his every last cent to make this all better for him.

“Dick,” Doctor Midnite, reaching out, found the young man’s hand. “You have a concussion. That is why you don’t remember everything that happened during the rescue mission.”

“Okay. Yeah, that makes sense,” Dick agreed breathlessly, his voice quavering only slightly.

“While you were distracted trying to free Wally, Vandal Savage got the slip on you,” Midnite told him slowly. “He managed to stab you . . . in the back.”

“Is that why I can’t feel my lower body?” Dick asked. “Did you give me an epidural for the pain since I can’t have painkillers with a concussion?”

Midnite smiled. “You’re not so concussed that you don’t remember that little medical fact. That’s good. I need you able to understand what all I’m about to tell you.”

Dick swallowed. As Bruce watched, a bead of sweat formed on his boy's brow, running down into his hairline.

“Lots of bedrest and then a boatload of physical therapy, huh?” Dick muttered. He licked his lips nervously.

“The knife Savage used on you struck your spine at the T11 vertebr . . .”

“Wait a minute,” Bruce interrupted. Dick wasn’t ready for this. _Bruce_ wasn’t ready for this. “Dick, I want you to remember that this could all be temporary. I promise I’ll find the best doctors . . .”

“ _Batman_!” Midnite snapped. “I understand this is difficult, so if you need to leave the room while we talk . . .”

“ _No_!” Dick yelped. The monitor jumped in conjunction with his outburst. His fingers were all he could move at the moment and he waved them helplessly. “Don’t go! Please . . . I need . . . I mean, I-I want him here.” Dick said quickly. His eyes rolled to Bruce’s face. “Please. Don’t go.”

Bruce stepped closer, brushing against the bed frame as he gripped Dick’s fingers and squeezed. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here for as long as you need me to be,” he promised.

Midnite held his silence for a long moment, then sighed. He obviously hated this part of his job. Bruce didn’t envy him this. How had Bruce’s own father managed it? While he’d had his share of giving bad news, it was as Batman. He had a mask to hide behind. Maybe that was why Midnite chose a cowl when he designed his costume.

“Nightwing,” Midnite began. The name reminded Dick who he was and allowed the young man to retreat behind the persona. “When Savage stuck you with the knife, the blade struck your spine at the T11 vertebra. The vertebra itself was damaged in the attack, breaking the spinous process and damaging one of your transverse processes. Do you know what those are?”

Dick blinked, frowning as he thought back on the anatomy basics Bruce had forced him to learn early in his career. “Those are the sticky-outy bits of the vertebrae, right?”

Midnite’s lips twitched. “Yes, that’s right. There are three of them.”

“And Savage wrecked two?”

“That’s correct,” the doctor murmured with a nod. “That is enough by themselves to warrant you being in traction . . . but, the knife, I have since learned, was . . . enchanted, or maybe cursed is a better word for it. The vertebra alone was not enough to stop the trajectory of the blade. Unfortunately, it pierced the spinal column.”

Dick face twisted into a scowl as he processed that. “P-Pierced?”

Midnite’s lips tightened as he drew in a fortifying breath. “. . . Severed,” he clarified.

“Sev- . . .” his eyes snapped back to Bruce’s. “Bruce?”

“I’m going to find him, Dick,” Bruce swore. “Savage won’t get away with this, I promise you.”

If anything brought home the seriousness of his condition, it was Bruce’s vow to avenge him. The monitor blared as Dick heart rate, already fast, doubled.

“What? No! You don’t . . . I can’t . . .” Dick gasped. His eyes swept back to Midnite. “It not . . . p-please!”

“I swear to you, Dick, I did everything I possibly could . . .”

“N-No!” Dick was beginning to hyperventilate.

“Dick, calm down,” Bruce told him. He ran one had through his son’s hair as much as the mechanism holding the boy’s body still would allow. He squeezed Dick’s fingers again.

“There m-must . . . be . . . some mis-mistake.” Dick’s voice was rising with his panic, catching on the edge of a sob.

“I’m sorry, son,” Midnite told him gently, but firmly.

“You’re lying!” Dick yelped. His eyes glistened and he closed them tightly as if to shut out the truth. “It can’t be. I- I can’t be par-paraly . . .” his voice faltered on the word.

“Paralyzed . . . from the waist,” Midnite confirmed softly.

“No, you’re wrong,” he cried. “You have to be!”

“I wish I were,” the doctor told him regretfully. “I wish . . . I’m so very sorry.”

Tears seeped from the corner of Dick’s eyes, dampening the hair at his temples. “No . . . no,” he gasped. “B-Bruce? Bruce!”

“I’m here, Dick. I’m right here,” Bruce called to him, but Dick was caught up in his grief. So, Bruce touched his boy’s face, ran his fingers through the long strands, and held his hand, hoping it would ground him in a world turned upside down.

He was still concussed, still under the influence of the anesthesia. All this lowered Dick’s emotional threshold on a good day. No one could expect any other reaction to such devastating news. When he found Vandal Savage, Batman would make him regret every one of his fifty-thousand years. 

Dick’s hands clenched as he jerked his wrists in his restraints as if he wanted to pound something. “Bruce,” damp blue eyes begged him, “please, tell me . . . It’s not true, is it? Please, Bruce. You’ll tell me the truth, won’t you? You wouldn’t lie to me . . . n-not about this!”

“Dick, I-I . . .” But Bruce hesitated.

He glanced up at Midnite only to discover that the doctor had left the room at some point. He hadn’t even heard him leave. Closing his eyes against the sting of emotion, Bruce told his son the hardest truth he’d ever had to impart.

“I’m . . . so – so sorry, Dick. I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Dick face crumpled as the last of his hope slid away. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move.

 _GAH_! He wanted to hit something, to hurt something, to - to _scream!_ And because he couldn’t move, he couldn’t hit anything, couldn’t even turn his fucking head - He screamed . . . In frustration, in anger, in despair.

He was freaking out, but through it all, Bruce was there. Dick knew he was there . . . but he couldn’t see him through the tears, couldn’t hear his words past his own screams. He felt him, though, holding his hand, combing his fingers through his hair, leaning in to touch his forehead with his own. A part of him recognized that Bruce was there weeping with him for his loss. That he was being more supportive, more hands on, more of a parent than he had ever been in his entire life. It was one of life’s crueler ironies that Dick was no longer in a position to appreciate it.

Being grounded, stuck is a damned chair for the rest of his life was worse to him than death.

 _Why_?

_Why didn’t Wally leave me there to die? He supposed to be my best friend . . . He had to know what this would do to me._

* * *

Pieter Cross, Dr. Midnite, hesitated at the door. He never doubted Batman’s words when he said Nightwing would not be able to handle the news well. Then again, who would? Certainly not him. Pieter remembered his own reaction after being told he would be blind forever, his career as a surgeon over.

This diagnosis, he knew, would be devastating for anyone, let alone a vibrant young man with astounding acrobatic abilities such as those Dick Grayson had possessed, a hero who’d spent more time in the air than he did on the ground. Or so he was told. The doctor would wait until the young man had the opportunity to process the news before he attempted to discuss what the future might still hold for him.

As he slipped out of the room, a scream of anguish sounded behind him, following Cross out the door and into the room beyond. He had a feeling the sound would follow him throughout the rest of his life. The room, though private, wasn’t meant to be soundproof out here in case the patient needed help in a hurry. The outer doors, however, should block Nightwing’s distress from those in the waiting room and standing in the hall outside of the ICU.

“Should I prepare something for him? A sedative, perhaps?” Black Canary’s voice came from his right, at the nurses’ station, interrupting his thoughts.

“No. His concussion,” he reminded her. Neither was it a good idea so soon following a surgery. Besides, “Letting it out will hopefully do him some good.”

“And what of his visitors?” Dinah asked.

“No other visitors tonight,” Cross told her. “It would not be helpful at this juncture. Tomorrow morning will be soon enough to deal with that. Everyone must be exhausted anyway.” He knew he was. Nodding to her, he clarified. “Then we’ll let Nightwing decide whether or not he wants to see anyone.”

Something, or rather someone, shifted to his left. _Who else is here_? All visitors were to wait in the hallway in order to give Nightwing privacy for this initial meeting, but even as the thought crossed his mind, Pieter remembered.

“Robin?”

Tim stammered in response. “He- He’s not taking it well, is he?”

“It’s to be expected,” Pieter told him. “It was not good news after all.”

“Will he be alright, d-do you think?”

Years of practice allowed the doctor to walk directly to the boy where he laid a hand unerringly on his shoulder.

“I know hearing your brother’s upset is distressing,” Pieter sympathized. “It’s going to take time and, a lot of patience but, yes, he will be alright . . . Eventually.”

Robin’s sigh left Pieter with the impression that the young hero didn’t believe him, but that was okay. It was early days yet. “I’m very sorry,” the doctor told him. “I wish to God that there had been something more I could have done.”

What more could he say? This was the part of his profession he hated the most.

“Yeah, I know,” Robin answered softly. “I am too, but I think that Vandal Savage is going to be the sorriest of us all once Batman gets finished with him.”

Pieter didn’t doubt that. “Have they found him yet?”

He listened as Robin flopped back down in the chair he had been sitting in earlier. Pieter could tell by the sound of the boy’s voice that Robin had already turned away from him, curling up in the chair, he was preparing for another long vigil when he answered.

“No. Not yet, but I’ve been told every available League member is out there scouring the planet for him. It’s only a matter of time,” Robin muttered.

Robin’s anger colored his words as vibrantly to Pieter’s ears as the most vibrant sunset the doctor could ever remember seeing. Listening to his brother’s pain was obviously stoking those flames. He was certain Robin would have preferred to be among those searching for Savage than waiting helplessly, unable to offer comfort or able to obtain justice on Nightwing’s behalf.

Knowing the Bats’ philosophy, Cross realized this incident would sorely test their resolve. He had no doubt the Caped Crusader would face down the one responsible for Nightwing’s injuries, and Midnite found himself hoping, despite what Savage deserved, that Batman did the immortal no serious damage. The truth of the matter was that Pieter did not want to have to treat the man who had just added another to his countless list of victims Vandal had destroyed throughout the course of his endless life.


	10. Self-Recriminations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we see various people beating themselves up over all the stuff that's happened . . .

**WARNINGS: Language . . .**

* * *

Red Hood straightened, looking down at his work but, like everything else he had done tonight, it hadn’t helped to ease his guilt for deserting Nightwing or his anger at himself for listening to Dick in the first place.

“Are they still alive?”

The voice came from behind him, and Hood spun to see who had managed to get the drop on him. Only the Bat and . . . and Nightwing have ever been able to do either and he knew from the voice that this person was neither of them. He grimaced at the relief he felt when he was proven right. It wasn’t Batman. Red Arrow dropped down from his perch on the fire escape above him.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Arrow asked, stepping past Hood to check on the downed man. “I have news.”

“And you thought you’d come here to warn me?” he asked the visiting hero.

Arrow frowned, kneeling next to the ground meat that Jason had left lying in a pool of his own blood. “Still alive, but jeez, Hood, you could have left the guy his face.”

Jason snorted. “I’m done babying these sons of bitches. Batman and Nightwing’s been doing that for years and Gotham’s still the closest place to hell on earth.”

“If the string of bodies you left behind is any indication, I doubt the city’s gotten any closer to heaven . . . despite all of the blood you’ve spilled,” Will stood up, taking the time to call it in, requesting yet another ambulance for yet another of Red Hood’s take-downs.

“Did some of them die?” Jay asked, only mildly curious. “They were all still alive when I left them, not that any of them deserved to be.”

“They were, but it was close for a couple of them.” Will looked accusingly at the younger man’s torn and bloodied gloves. “You didn’t even call an ambulance, Jason! You just left them there. If I hadn’t come along . . .”

Jason turned his back. “Yeah, well, you _did_ , didn’t you?”

“You didn’t _know_ I was coming! You sure as hell didn’t know I’d stumble onto the trail of victims you left behind,” Will snapped angrily.

Jason turned at that. “Don’t you _dare_ call those scum victims,” he snarled. “Not one of them is worth the oxygen they breathe. I’m doing the world a favor. How much do you want to bet that none of those bastards will dare commit another crime?”

Will was unimpressed. “You’re right. Kind of hard to rob a convenience store from a wheelchair.”

Great. More guilt . . . Jay shoved it down ruthlessly. “Exactly my point.”

Will stared at him for a moment before he seemed to slump. “We need to talk, but not here.” Sirens could be heard getting steadily closer. The archer looked up. “Let’s go somewhere that won’t be swarming with police in a few seconds.”

“You’re wasting your time. I already know what you’re going to say,” Jason growled even as he shot off his grapple gun.

He disappeared over the edge of the building’s roof. Will followed as the first police car arrived at the scene below.

* * *

They didn’t stop until they were near the boardwalk. It was empty this time of night – or morning, as the was case. Will dropped down beside where Jason had sat, atop a salt water taffy shop. The carnival, two hundred yards away, was dark and quiet. They looked out over the Atlantic as the sky began to lighten.

“I don’t know what you’re bitching about,” Jason muttered, setting his helmet on the rooftop next to him. “I didn’t shoot any of them.”

“That wasn’t the point,” Will sighed. “Look, enough about them. I know you were taking out your worry and frustration on them, and who can blame you? The cops and EMTs will take care of them.”

“This is Gotham, Will. The cops don’t take care of anybody but themselves.”

“That’s not true,” Will argued.

Jason looked at him.

“Okay. At least, it’s less true that it was before Batman came on the scene.”

“Yeah, hurray for the big, black Bat,” Jay snorted.

“Forget it,” he said, wanting to change the subject to the real reason he came to Gotham. “I don’t want to argue. The only reason I’m here is because someone wasn’t picking up the com.”

This was a lie. He hadn’t even tried to contact Jay over the com. He knew from Artemis that Jason hadn’t been responding to her attempts. The trip was worth it, however, because Jason deserved to hear this in person.

“It’s okay. I know . . .” Jay murmured, staring out at the ocean. “H-He’s . . . dead, isn’t he?”

Will looked at him, startled. “What?”

“You came to warn me that Batman’s out for my head,” Jason answered, nodding. He had been expecting it. “You wasted your time, Will. Batman didn’t kill Joker when that sick clown murdered me. I doubt Batman will kill me, even for his golden boy. But, even if he did, it’s no more than I deserve. So, you can fuck off now, knowing you did your good deed for the year.”

Will laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder only for Jason to shrug it off tiredly. “Is _that_ what you thought when I showed up? You’re wrong, Jase. Listen . . .”

Don’t _lie_ to me!” The exhaustion was gone and the anger back. “I _saw_ him, Will. I saw the blood he lost. There’s no way Dickhead could have survived that . . . And it’s _my_ fault - because I left him.”

“He _did_ survive, though. Dick’ alive, Jason. We got him help in time.”

Jason stared at him for several long moments, the news apparently surprising the cynicism right out of him. Will watched as various emotions played across his face before settling on relief.

“Midnite saved him, Jason . . . but . . .” and here came the hard part.

Jay frowned. “But? But what? You just said he’s alive.”

“I didn’t lie about that. His condition is stabilized, but the knife . . . “

Comprehension dawned like the sun had in front of them.

“His legs.” It was a statement. Jason understood. “He lost use of his legs.” Jason’s expression hardened. He picked up his helmet, shoving it back over his head and standing up. “So, I was right the first time. He _did_ die.”

Will gaped at the sudden change. “No. I told you . . .”

“Shut up,” Jason gritted out. “This is Dick we’re talking about. You honestly think he can lose his legs and want to live? You obviously don’t know him as well as you think you do. Okay, you gave your news, Will; your good deed is done. Now, get the fuck out of Gotham.” He ripped his grapple gun from his belt and pointed it back in the direction from which they had just come.

Jumping to his feet, Will reached out but dared not touch the younger man. Jay was even more on edge now than he was when Will had first appeared. “Stop it. You’re acting like his life is over.”

“It is,” Jay insisted. “Dickhead needs to fly like you and I need to breathe. Trust me. He’s not going to thank anyone for saving him when it means he’ll be grounded forever.”

“You’re needed on the Watchtower. Dick needs you.”

Will tried to ignore Jason’s interpretation of events and what this would mean for his friend. The hardest part of hearing it was that he couldn’t argue with it. Will knew Dick better than Jason realized, but he had faith that Dick was stronger than anyone gave him credit for. He just needed his friends to be there for him, his family, his brothers - _both_ of them.

“No one needs me, Will. Nobody wants me there, _especially_ Dick,” Jason shot off a cable.

“That’s not true. Please, come see him, just once,” Will pleaded.

“Dick needs me like he needs the plague. If I hadn’t left him . . . But, h-he told me to go back. H-He said . . . _Damn it_! I shouldn’t have listened to him. It’s my fault that he’s - that he’s paralyzed. Believe me when I tell you, I’m the last person Dick wants to see right now.” Jason hit recoil and was gone.

Will could have gone after him, but Jason was dealing with a boatload of guilt at the moment. With the sun crawling ever higher in the sky, he trusted that Red Hood’s reign of terror was over for the time being. Jay would go home, wherever that was, and hopefully get some sleep. With a heavy sigh and a shake of his head, Will activated his com.

“He’s not coming,” Will muttered to the person on the other end, defeated. “I’m on my way back in now.”

Looking back at the ocean, Will watched for a moment as the morning sun glinted gold on the water, promising more hope than it could deliver. He turned in the other direction, toward the closest zeta-tube, struggling to forget Jason’s prophetic words. He would have retired from this gig a long time ago had he been one to give in to defeat. Of all people, Will knew that a person was capable of overcoming all kinds of crap that fate threw in their direction. Certainly, Dick, the eternal optimist, could find the strength to move past his loss the same way he had with all the other losses the kid had been forced to bear over the years.

Moving swiftly through the rooftops of Gotham City, Will grasped at that tiny piece of hope like it was his own last lifeline. He refused to lose another friend so soon after regaining another.

* * *

“Hey, wake up, lazy bones.”

Smiling, Wally pried his eyes open to see Artemis leaning over him. Then, he moved and immediately groaned. Shoving himself up in his chair, he rubbed his neck with one hand.

“You’d think they’d make these chairs more comfortable,” Wally grumbled, carefully bending his stiff neck to loosen the stiff muscles. He glanced at the blonde next to him, smiling despite the ache. He’d put up with a lot more than this so long as Artemis was there to greet him every morning. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I slept against your shoulder most of the night,” she admitted. She handed him a plate stacked with a dozen breakfast sandwiches and a large coffee. “I also brought you a little snack until you can get down to the cafeteria for a decent meal. It’s from the bottom of the pot, so it’s a little strong,” she informed him apologetically as he took a sip from the hot beverage. “They were brewing a new pot, but I didn’t want to wait around for it.”

“S’okay,” he assured her. “I appreciate the gesture.”

Eating one of his sandwiches, Wally looked around the waiting room. Not nearly as crowded as it had been last night. Connor and Kaldur where talking quietly across the room while M’gann napped with her head on Connor’s thigh. Tim was out cold, stretched across one of the benches. Most of the others had gone home or to their rooms here on the Watchtower after Robin had come out to give everyone the update on Nightwing’s condition. One would have thought Dick had died by their reactions . . . It had pissed Wally off. It had pissed Will off far more, though, as he had laid into them.

 _Dick is alive_! _He is stable_. _They should be celebrating_ , and for a little while Wally had felt that elation. He hadn’t killed his best friend after all but, then reality had set in. Dick is _paralyzed_. How much of that was Wally’s fault?

His sandwich turned to ash in his mouth, and it was all he could do not to throw up.

I dropped him . . . My best friend has saved my life, and I dropped him with a fucking knife stuck in his back! He blinked hard, but the tears fell anyway, dripping onto the tiles between his feet as Wally set the plate on the seat next to him. He kept his head bent, his elbows on his knees. He couldn’t look at anyone. Artemis set the coffee cup aside to put her arms around him.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered to him. “Savage did this to him.”

Wally shook his head as he watched the drops hit the floor, one of them splattered on his boot.

Savage wouldn’t have been able to do anything had Wally had just gotten his shit together a few seconds sooner. He could have stopped Savage before he could have stabbed Dick. If he had just been a little faster, the explosion wouldn’t have caught up with them. Nightwing wouldn’t have been thrown from his arms. Wally was too slow . . . and isn’t that what had gotten him into trouble in the first place?

 _Too slow_ . . . _Too damned slow_ . . . The next tear slowed as it fell until it was hovering in midair halfway to the floor.

“Wally? Wally!” Artemis cried out.

Her voice snapped him out of his funk, and he glanced at her, startled. Conner and Kaldur were on their feet across from him as M’gann and Tim sat up, rubbing at their eyes. He frowned at their concern he saw in their eyes. It was directed at him.

Why were they looking at him? He was fine. Their concern should be for Dick, not Wally.

“Wally, stop it!” Artemis snapped at him. “You’re vibrating. My arm just fell through your shoulder.”

He looked at her in confusion, then glanced at the others for confirmation.

“She speaks true, my friend,” Kaldur told him as Conner nodded.

He had been moving so fast that time had stopped for him. This was the worst kind of irony, that his speed would arrive when he didn’t need it. What good would his speed do for Dick now?

“Wally, we’re all upset . . .” M’gann began, but Wally waved her off.

“No. Stop, M’gann. This is all my fault. I should have been able to stop Savage before he could stab Dick,” Wally choked. “It took me too long to wrap my head around what was going on behind me. I was too _slow_ ,” he ground out. He started laughing but it was bitter.

“You’re being unfair to yourself,” Artemis argued. She understood what he was going through, though. She knew this was tearing him up inside. “I don’t know what Savage was doing to you when Nightwing found you, but we do know he was trying to brainwash y- . . .”

“You weren’t there,” Wally yelled, slashing his hand in front of him and bringing any forming arguments to a halt before they began. “You weren’t there,” he repeated, softly this time. “I’m Kid Flash, for God’s sake! I should have been able to stop Savage before he could stab Dick. If I’d have stopped him, then Savage wouldn’t have been able to activate the bombs. I wouldn’t have had to move Dick when he had a spinal injury . . .”

“You had no choice,” Kaldur interrupted him. “You were hurt.”

“There were several bombs,” M’gann added. “The explosion even caught the bioship.”

Wally continued as if no one had spoken. “Then I dropped him. I was running and then I fucking _dropped_ him. Dear God! Dick’s lucky I didn’t kill him outright,” he declared, holding his head in his hands in his distress.

“Dick’s alive because of you,” Artemis insisted.

“Dick’s _paralyzed_ because of me,” Wally snarled. “He’s going to hate me for this. You shouldn’t have come after me. I’m not worth the price Dick’s having to pay.”

Artemis kneeled in front of him, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. Tears streaked her face as well. “Don’t say that! We love you, Wally! _I_ love you and I will always come after you.”

“Dick would disagree . . .” Tim said softly, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“Tim, how could you say that?” Artemis gasped at the boy.

“No, listen to me, Wally. Dick blamed himself for your death,” Tim continued. “He blamed himself for everything. Although, he didn’t talk to me before going after you, he didn’t have to for me to know what he was thinking, feeling at that moment.” Tim ran his hand through his hair as he stood up.

Walking over to the speedster, Tim laid his hand on Wally’s arm. “He would have said your life is worth it. Believe me when I tell you, Dick would have given anything to bring you back to us . . . even his legs.” Tim met Wally’s gaze with all the sincerity in his heart. “Even had Dick _known_ what it would cost him beforehand, he would have gone after you. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it.”

Wally rubbed at his eyes. “Tim . . .”

“You know it as well as I do, Wally,” Tim insisted. “He’s not going to be happy about the cost, of course. He’s going to _hate_ being in a wheelchair, hate it with every fiber of his being, and who could blame him? Dick doesn’t belong in a chair but, Wally, I guarantee you, he’ll never regret going after you, never regret saving you from the plans Savage had for you.”

“Tim . . .”

“No! You can’t argue with me on this. You know I’m right,” Tim persisted.

“I know,” Wally whispered. The boy was right, but it didn’t make the pain of knowing he was responsible for his best friend’s paralysis any easier to bear. “I know you’re right. Dick’s a selfless bastard like that but, that doesn’t mean that I have like it.”

Wally pulled the teen into his arms, hugging him for all he was worth. Dick got lucky getting this kid for a brother.

“You good, now?” Tim asked, his voice muffled in Wally’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I’m good . . . but, for the record, this still hurts like a sonofabitch.”

And Wally knew that it always would.

* * *

It was time to pay the piper.

Wally entered the ICU unit. This place was for those who might not live through the night or whose lives were changed forever – those who wouldn’t be returning to active duty ever again. Artemis was at his back for moral support. Tim followed them in to check on Bruce.

Behind the nurse’s station stood Dinah, Dr. Midnite, Batman, and Superman. Dinah looked exhausted after being on duty all night. Wally walked over to her. Smiling, she came around so she could greet the newly resurrected speedster.

“Wally,” Dinah whispered to him, pulling him in for a hug. “I wanted to do this yesterday when I saw you on the bioship. How are you feeling? Pieter saw you, didn’t he? Are you alright?”

Hugging her back, Wally answered her. “I’m okay - Better than okay, actually. N-Nightwing got me out of there in time. Physically, I’ve no lasting effects, and M’gann and J’onn assured me there’s no hidden programming up here,” he announced, tapping his finger against his temple.

“Wally’s problems were mostly dehydration and malnourishment. Once those issues were addressed, his weakness and disorientation cleared up right away,” Artemis inserted.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” Dinah exclaimed.

“What’s going on?” Wally asked, nodding at the conversation going on between Superman and Batman.

“The League found him,” she announced. “They captured Vandal Savage. He was brought in just twenty minutes ago. But you’re here to see Dick, aren’t you?” Dinah used Nightwing’s real name as everyone present already knew his identity.

The news Savage’s capture distracted him for a moment. “You got him?” Wally asked, joining the other heroes’ conversation.

Superman nodded, his face lightening at the sight of speedster. “We did, although I suppose we should thank him for finding you and pulling you out of the speed force. I’m so sorry, Wally. We had no idea you were trapped there,” he apologized, laying a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “It is good to have you back. You were sorely missed.”

“No, I understand. I don’t blame anyone for that. I assumed I was going to die as well. And while it’s good to be back amongst the living, I have a grudge to settle with Savage,” Wally told them. “I want to see him.”

Batman’s hand on his shoulder startled him. “You’ll have to stand in line, Wallace,” he growled low and menacing. “In the meantime, Dick’s been asking about you. He’ll be happy to see you.”

“A-About Dick . . .” The words froze in Wally’s throat. What could he say to the man? This was Dick’s father and, despite what Tim said earlier, Batman would be well within his right to hate Wally now. “H-how is . . .” he trailed off.

Batman’s jaw tightened. “He’s alive. I have you to thank for that, I hear.”

 _Oh God_! “No, don’t thank me. I didn’t . . . I mean, I wish . . .” he sighed, dropping his gaze. He couldn’t look the man in the eyes. “I only wish I could have saved him back. I-I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” Batman told him. “Nightwing would have died if it hadn’t been for you. As for the rest of this . . .” he sighed. “Well, we’ll have to wait and see what fate has in store. For now, let’s just be grateful that he’s still with us.”

He blinked at those kind words. _How long was I gone again_? Wally had expected the man’s hands around his throat, not squeezing his shoulder and thanking him.

“Is Dick . . . Is _he_ grateful?” He nearly choked on the word. Wally felt he already knew the answer to his question, but he just didn’t want to hear it confirmed.

This time, it was Batman who looked away. “He’s . . . It’s early yet. He’s still dealing with the effects of a concussion, so he hasn’t had time to process the news. And it’s too soon to give up hope, despite the prognosis.”

Wally saw Midnite’s mouth tighten briefly. Although Wally wasn’t the best at reading subtle cues, especially when half the person’s face was hidden by a cowl, but it appeared to him that the doctor disagreed with Batman on this. So, Midnite believed Dick’s condition to be permanent.

Was Batman in denial? While he knew the doc’s opinion held more weight in these matters that that of a distraught father, Batman was no ordinary dad. If the Bat still had hope, then Wally would side with him. He would need to be careful, however, not to get Dick’s hopes up too high. If, in the end, nothing could be done for him, Wally didn’t want his friend to shatter when hope and reality eventually collided.

“Before you go in,” Batman told them, “you need to be prepared for what you’ll see.”

“I don’t understand. What you mean ‘prepare’?” _Prepare for what_?

Midnite offered the explanation. “To protect Nightwing from any further injury and allow time to heal from the surgery, it was necessary to use a traction bed. This means he won’t be able to move anything beyond his fingers. Nightwing will need to be kept completely immobile for the two weeks. The bed can be a shock when you first see it. Try not to let this visibly upset you as it could add to an already distressing situation for the patient.”

 ** _Two_** ** _weeks_**? Oh God, this was going to be a nightmare. Dick couldn’t even stand the inactivity that came with a broken leg. What was this going to do to him?

Artemis tucked her arm in Wally’s, lending him her strength. _Good thing, too_ , he thought. He was feeling a little lightheaded himself by the news.

“We’ll be careful,” she promised.

“Wallace. I need to step out for a few minutes,” Batman told him. “If you and Artemis could stay with him until I return or, if you need to leave, have Tim take your place. I-I don’t want him to be alone right now. You understand.”

Wally swallowed, nodding. “Of course, we understand. No problem.”

“Thank you.” Batman’s expression hardened as he turned, leading the way out of the ICU unit, Superman on his heels.

Wally stared after them, thinking, _Savage has no idea the shitstorm that’s heading his way_. . .

“Try to keep him calm if you can,” the doctor reminded them before he, too, left the unit. “Dinah or J’onn will be here if he needs anything.”

“He was given something a little while ago for pain and anxiety,” Dinah told them. “He can have more if he needs it; just hit the call light or pop your head out here. J’onn will be relieving me in a few minutes if you need help.”

“What kind of help,” Wally asked warily.

“Anything,” she said. “Anything at all.”

Her smile wasn’t especially reassuring. The fact that they needed to be reminded more than once to keep Dick calm meant that he was having a hard time adjusting. And the emphasis Dinah placed on the fact that the Martian would be available wasn’t lost on the speedster. J’onn would be available to calm Dick psychically if the drugs weren’t able to do the job.

Wally grabbed Artemis’ hand for support. He had a feeling he was going to need it.

* * *

Dick’s mask was off, his eyes shut when Wally entered the room. The speedster was suddenly thankful for the warning they had been given. As it was, he was barely able to contain his gasp at the sight of his best friend strapped into the traction bed. The inability to move more than his fingers had to be hell to the younger man.

 _It looked like a damned torture device_ . . .

Wally took a minute to regain his composure. He knew his face must be showing every emotion running through him. Artemis’ hand tightened around his wrist she choked back a sob.

“Sh,” he warned her quietly, and felt her nod against his shoulder.

“I’m okay,” she whispered.

He wished he could say the same for Dick. Even with his eyes closed, Dick’s face was still damp, fresh from tears. Wally hesitated, afraid of waking him up.

“He looks exhausted,” he noted softly.

Actually, he looked utterly devastated by the news. Wally knew they were only seeing this because he thought he was alone. Dick had never been one to complain about his problems . . . But this? This wasn’t being grounded or having his car towed.

“I doubt he’s gotten any real sleep since waking up from the surgery,” Artemis murmured.

Wally backed up a step, pulling Artemis with him. “We probably shouldn’t wake him,” he told her quietly.

“Batman didn’t want him to be left alone,” she reminded him. There was only one chair available in the room. “You stay. I’m call Will with the news about Savage. He’ll want to know. I’ll be by the nurse’s station if you need me.”

Wally spun around, but Artemis was already slipping out the door. “Wait!”

“Nngh . . . Bruce?”

The sound of Dick’s voice stopped Wally in his tracks. God, his voice sounded like he’s been gargling glass

“Bruce?”

Wally could hear the panic creeping into his voice. He’d been told to keep Dick calm. _Damn it_! What the hell could he say? Girding himself, Wally stepped up close to the bed.

“Uh, no. Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s just me, buddy.”

“Wally?”

He leaned over the bed and into Dick’s line of sight.

Bloodshot eyes glistened with emotion. Wally watched his friend swallow his fear and replace it with a smile. It was weak and tremulous but still a smile, nevertheless. Wally had never been more impressed by Dick’s courage and strength of spirit as he was at that moment and had to swallow his own lump of emotion.

“Wally? _Wally_! Oh, man, are you a sight for sore eyes,” Dick croaked. “How are you? Did Midnite look you over? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Wally choked. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, he did last night. After . . . you know. Clean bill of health.” He tried not to flinch at his own words.

Dick’s smile widened even as a single tear escaped, slithering into his hairline at his temple. “That’s good! That’s great! I was afraid that maybe we didn’t get to you in time. Our intel said that Savage planned to brainwash you and use you as a mole within the League.”

“He would have had his hands full with that task,” Wally tried to joke. It fell flat. He sighed. “J’onn and M’gann have already checked me out. They both deemed me free of any programming.” A muscle in his jaw clenched. “You, um, . . . You got to me in time. I-I want to thank y . . .”

“Don’t thank me,” Dick interrupted. “Not when it’s my fault you were trapped in the speed force in the first place.”

Wally’s eyebrows shot up. _God, Tim was right_. “How’d you get a numbskull idea like that?”

Dick blinked as if it were obvious. “It was my plan that . . .”

“ _Your_ plan?” Wally cut him off with a laugh. You planned to have the alien assholes blow up the world?”

“Uh, no, but . . . if everything had gone as it should have, we would have been able to prevent the Reach from activating those bombs to begin with,” Dick argued. “You shouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place.”

“Dick, don’t.” He stopped Dick in mid-castigation. Glancing down, he found his friend’s fingers and clasped them in his own. “Just - Don’t be like Batman. Not everything is about you. _I_ made that decision. What happened that day in the artic, it was all on me and you know it. _I_ chose to help. I knew what it was doing to me and _I_ made the choice not to stop.”

Another tear slipped free. “No! You and Artie were retired. You wanted out of that life. You would have been safe if I hadn’t talked Artemis and you into helping me.”

“Listen up, buddy. I saved the world and you’re not going to take that away from me,” Wally smirked. “I’m a hero. Self-sacrifice is what we do.” His breath hitched on that last line as he stared down at what remained of his best friend. “You shouldn’t have come after me, Dick. _God_! _I’m so sorry_!”

So much for keeping Dick calm. Wally’s face crumpled as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to that of his friend. “I’m so sorry! I should have stopped Savage and I didn’t. I was too slow.”

“Hey! Hey, it’s alright,” Dick murmured. He flexed his fingers in the speedster’s grip. It was the best he could do. “I’m alive, aren’t I?”

Wally couldn’t speak, so he nodded, squeezing Dick’s fingers in response.

“It’s okay, Walls,” Dick told him. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. It was worth any price I had to-to . . .” Dick might have convinced him if his ruined voice hadn’t cracked at that moment. The tears were coming harder now.

Wally leaned back up to gape at the younger man, incredulously.

“Really! You’re my best friend,” Dick ground out, sniffling. “You’re _worth_ it. _You are_.” It sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but was failing miserably.

Batman and Doc Midnite would kill Wally all over again if they walked in right now.

Dick’s nose was running but, strapped down like he was, he couldn’t do anything about it. Grabbing a handful of tissues, Wally tried to look nonchalant as he dabbed ineffectively at his friend’s face, grimacing.

He shoved the wad over Dick’s nose. “Here,” he commanded. “Blow.”

Dick gaped at him for a long moment before he burst out laughing. “You’re terrible at this, you know that?”

“Are you going to blow or not?” Wally asked, his own lips twitching. Never would he have imagined the two of them being in this situation.

“I suppose you should get the practice in before you and Artie have kids,” Dick snickered.

“Wait, what? Kids?” he stammered.

Dick blew.

“ _Ew, gross_!” Wally yelped, struggling valiantly not to retch. “This is disgusting. No, wait. It’s okay. I’ve got this.” He dumped the wad of used tissues in the trashcan and yanked out a dozen more, slapping them over Dick’s face. “Right, so . . . Um, you need to blow again?”

Dick’s response was muffled, so Wally lifted the tissues.

“No. I’m good.”

“’Kay.” The speedster mopped awkwardly the rest of the mess. “Ack,” he squeaked, “I’ve got your snot on me!” He tossed the tissues away while covering his mouth with his other hand. “’ _Hrk_ ’!”

“Wally! If you puke on me . . .” Dick growled in warning.

Wally snorted then promptly choked. He laughed helplessly between his coughing and the gagging as he held the trashcan under his face.

“Hate to tell you, but you kind of suck at this,” Dick declared dryly, but his amusement was evident. “Better pray your kids never get colds.”

“ _Urk_! I know!” Wally wailed as he turned on the faucet at the sink. He splashed water on his face and rinsed his mouth. “I know. It would be awful!”

The door creaked open and Artemis peered carefully around the edge. “Is everything alright in here?” she asked warily.

“Artie?” Dick called out, unable to see her from his position. “Save me from this idiot.”

Wally laughed, patting his face dry with paper towels. “You ass!”

“Wimp!”

“Jerk!”

“Dick,” they both blurted together then burst into more laughter.

Tilting her head at the unexpected turn of events, Artemis stepped fully into the room, allowing the door to close behind her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Wally assured her, smiling weakly.

“I can’t believe he can take on the likes of Gorilla Grodd and Captain Cold but get a little snot on his hand and it makes him hurl,” Dick sang out happily.

Artemis gazed from one to the other. “Do I even _want_ to know?”

Dick smiled tiredly. “Probably not.”

“Probably not,” Wally agreed.

It wasn’t hard to figure out looking down into wet, reddened eyes and the streaky mess Wally had left still on him. Whatever occurred in here, Artemis decided it had been cathartic. That could only be a good thing - she hoped. Wetting some paper towels, Artemis finished the job that Wally had botched. The speedster walked around to the opposite side of the bed before resting his hand over his friend’s.

Following suit, Artie took Dick’s other fingers in her own. She leaned down over him, carefully pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“What’s that for?” he asked.

“Bringing him back to me,” she told him. “Thank you for bringing him back to me.”

“He’s worth it,” Dick told her solemnly, then grinned. “He’s a complete pantywaist, but he’s worth it.”

Shaking his head, Wally gripped his friend’s fingers, but he was smiling. “And you’re still a dick,” he quipped.

“But you love me anyway,” Dick smirked.

His expression grew serious. “Yes,” Wally agreed. “I do.”

Reaching across the bed, Artemis took Wally’s hand in her free one as she, too, agreed to the sentiment.

“We _both_ do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REACTIONS??
> 
> You gotta love this bromance . . .


	11. A Dish Best Served Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of POV changes here. I separated each with the name of the character whose perspective you are in. One POV can be considered “Neutral” or the “Reader’s” perspective as I don’t really follow any one person’s viewpoint. 
> 
> Warnings: Language, Violence, Gore

** Jason **

Jason slid the sample into the League’s transporter computer and waited for Goldie’s DNA to upload. It didn’t take nearly as long to accomplish as it used to. The transporter must have been upgraded a couple of times since Dick had shown him this trick before Jason’s demise. He hoped it would still work or company would be waiting for him the moment he arrived on the Watchtower.

It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t be welcomed, but he knew by the end of this visit, no one would invite him back for the annual JLA Christmas party. Jason hadn’t killed anyone recently, at least not that anyone knew about. It was just too bad that Vandal Savage was immortal because if anyone needed an escort off this mortal coil, it was him. Roy’s assurance that no one blamed him for Dick’s predicament was a farce. Maybe the large part of the League didn’t, but Jason was positive that Bruce would have a different perspective. His favorite son was being retired to a wheelchair for the rest of his life and Jason was the main reason for it.

Sliding the electronic keycard into the data slot, Jay typed in one of the codes that Dick had given to him back when Jason wore a yellow and black cape instead of the leather jacket and red helmet he wore now. “Just in case,” the newly dubbed Nightwing had explained to him. If the League were compromised or defeated, someone would need to get onto the Watchtower without being detected. “It happened before,” Dick had warned.

Vandal Savage had been enemy that time and the reason Dick had developed his own hack past security after Batman had given the team a security pass. Jay had heard the story. That time had been before the advent of the second Robin. Ironically, Savage was the reason that Jason was using Dick’s method of entry this time.

Although the first Robin’s talent for hacking was a well-known fact, no one knew about _this_. As far as Jay knew, even Batman was still in the dark. The only person that Dick had trusted with this backdoor had been one fourteen-year-old fanboy, a kid still wet behind the mask back then. Jason had never told his brother, but that was still one of his most cherished memories. Dick had chosen _Jason_ over any League member, over his friends, and even over Bruce himself. Dick had trusted him.

It was this memory and that trust, probably more than anything that had prompted Jason to forego his own revenge on Ra’s in order to get Dick the information on Wally, behind his agreement to help him rescue the errant speedster when Dick had asked and . . . for what Jason was about to do now. _IF_ , that is, the codes were still good after all this time.

The script ran across the screen at a pace too fast for Jason to follow. _Dick probably could_ , Jay couldn’t help thinking. Growling, he shook his head as if the movement would shake loose this need he had to constantly compare himself with his older brother. It was a compulsion from his former life that the Joker had failed to beat out of him, a little part that had survived his death and rebirth.

He wondered if Roy would be up there waiting on him. Having already seen the archer once that day, Jason had no desire to meet up with him again, even though Roy had been the one to call him about Savage. The archer wanted Jason to be kept in the loop, to draw him back to the fold, but Roy wouldn’t agree with _this_. If he knew Jason’s plans, Roy would likely stop him or at the very least rat him out. That was why Jay had hung up immediately after being given the news. Let the archer consider him too angry or guilt-ridden to act out today.

The simple truth of it was Jason felt too angry and guilt-ridden to _not_ do something about it. That being said, there was no time like the present. Right now, the League was too wrapped up in their own emotions to worry about what a semi-friendly ally with a grudge might be willing to do.

The beep alerted him that the hack had been successful.

 _Damn, Dickie_ , he thought as he pulled out his keycard, _you still got it_.

There was a list of things Dick could do that Jason felt jealous of, but that list was shrinking dramatically. Golden Boy wasn’t nearly as shiny now as he had been just the day before; that gleam had become tarnished overnight and Vandal Savage needed to pay for that.

 _“B-01, Nightwing”_ , the transporter intoned as it scanned him, unaware of the discrepancy, then Jason felt the unique sensation of his molecules breaking down and ripped apart as he was beamed into orbit and reassembled on the Watchtower.

This wouldn’t have worked if Nightwing had been beamed aboard, but he had arrived at the Watchtower via the Martian bioship. The hack allowed him to separate the mainframe’s info from the transporter computer, enabling it from acknowledging Nightwing’s presence on board for the length of time it took Jason to transport there. When his vision cleared, Jason was standing in a receiving room used to receive bulk shipments and supplies. Since shipments weren’t scheduled to arrive on Sunday mornings, the area was currently deserted.

Jason hesitated, waiting for an alarm to sound. When none came, he ran to the wall containing the ventilation shaft. When Dick had taught Jason how to hack the system, he had also supplied the tower’s schematics. Not wanting to get lost in the maze of ductwork, Jay double-checked his location and determined where he needed to go. He slipped into the shaft, carefully closing the vent cover behind him. No sense alerting anyone who happened by that an unauthorized person was wandering about from a missing vent grating. Once he disabled the motion and heat sensors along his mapped path, he was moving.

* * *

** Savage **

“So, he finally died, did he? I expected you here hours ago,” Vandal Savage sat on the bunk provided, lounging comfortably, looking quite relaxed despite facing down The Batman. He didn’t wait for the grim Crusader to reply to his taunt. “Your sidekick hung in there longer than I expected. You should be thanking me, you know. I did you a favor.”

Getting up, Vandal moved in front of his adversary, ignoring the eyes that followed the drama from beyond the forcefield that held him there. Contemplating Batman’s silence, Savage determined he was witnessing a chip in the hero’s exterior. Perhaps the man was too distraught by his partner’s death to voice his anger. Smug in his assumption, he continued his analysis, circling the hero slowly.

“Your protégé’s weakness, his sentimentality, is what ultimately did him in. You must realize this by now. Beware, or your own misplaced affection will lead you to a similar outcome.”

Completing his rotation, Savage stopped in front of the Bat. He did not lash out, despite his enemy’s grief-stricken state. Many of the League’s hardest hitters, Superman and Flash among them, were present to stop him. Instead, he complained of the loss of a once-worthy foe in the silent figure before him.

“You have the intelligence; you could have been my equal despite your mortality. Why would you throw it away with this ridiculous need to take in . . . children? I suppose you wish to leave a legacy; however, this makes two you have lost if the Joker is to be believed. Perhaps if you rid yourself of the last of your clingers-on, this latest Robin, then you could be free to meet your potential.”

“Savage . . .” Batman stepped forward, closing the distance.

Vandal wasn’t worried. What could the Bat do to him? He was immortal. Even had Batman’s code allowed him to kill, his colleagues would stop him. Others might cower before Batman, but dealing with Vandal, his attempts to intimidate fell woefully short.

“Do you have something to say to me, Batman? Feel free to show me your gratitude,” Vandal smiled then, opening his arms in a grand gesture. He was safe enough with his angry but morally upright guards less than a stone’s throw away.

In an impressively fast move, Batman crossed the short distance between them, gripping Vandal’s head and twisting. The snap was loud as were the gasps and yells of the man’s colleagues as the forcefield disintegrated. Savage’s body hitting the floor, sounding like a lifeless sack of grain as Superman pulled the Dark Knight out of the cell.

* * *

** Neutral **

“My God, Bruce!” Superman gaped past him at the corpse on the floor. “What the hell? You don’t kill! _Batman_ doesn’t kill. What of your code - your no-killing rule?”

Batman jerked an arm free, then reached over to the controls, reinstating the forcefield. He looked up at Clark first, and then at the rest of his shocked colleagues.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he murmured with infuriating calm. “I didn’t _kill_ anyone.”

A groan issued forth from the cell as a reanimated Savage slowly climbed to his feet. He reached up with both hands, snapping his head back into place with loud crack. He rubbed his neck, tilting his head this way and that as Vandal stepped up to the magnetic field separating him from his jailers.

“What the hell was _that_?” he growled. He didn’t like being surprised and glared at his captors. “Your vaunted morality stands on nothing more than quicksand. Where is your vow to never take a life?”

Batman glanced back. Only Superman could see the rigidity in the man’s jaw.

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” Batman stated coldly while walking out of the room with a swirl of cape. It was time to get back to his son.

“Don’t turn your back on me!” Savage yelled as the door slid shut behind the Bat. He snarled, then, at the others. “Is this your idea of protection? You just let that man kill me!”

Superman crossed his arms. “You don’t look dead to me,” he snapped, repeating Batman’s sentiment. To the rest of the League present, he said, “I think I’ll head down to the medical bay to see Nightwing. Dr. Midnite sent word that he’s in stable condition now.”

Martian Manhunter followed him. “I will accompany you. I am to relieve Black Canary of duty.”

Savage strained as he watched them go. “If the boy’s alive, why would Batman bother to attack me?” He scoffed derisively. “I was right, then. He’s weak. Pathetic.”

Wonder Woman stepped up to the cell. “Don’t test me, Savage. If _I_ were to do what Batman did to you, it would take you so much longer to revive yourself.” Then, she turned her back to the villain as well. “It’s my turn to take watch duty,” she announced as she exited next.

“The mighty Justice League is reduced to mob tactics and threats?” Savage said, tilting his head on his newly healed neck.

Flash shook his head in disgust. “I’m sorry. I can’t be here any longer. You coming, GL?”

“Right behind you, Flash,” Hal agreed, following him out.

All that remained was Hawkgirl. Kicking her chair back away from the console with her foot, she stood and glared at Savage through the magnetic field. She stretched her back, her wings fluttering and shifting with the movement.

“The boy lives and yet I’m the target of all of this ire,” Savage murmured, pondering that. He had stabbed the boy in his spine. If he still lived, then his career as one of these costumed annoyances had been effectively ended. Perhaps that was the reason . . . 

Hawkgirl interrupted his thoughts. “Don’t think for a moment that Klarion will be coming to your rescue,” she told him. “Dr. Fate and Zatanna have placed magical protections over the entire Watchtower as well as your cell. No opposing magic will penetrate them, and they will prevent _you_ from walking out, even should the magnetic field fail. You are well and truly caught this time.”

“All this for two sidekicks who aren’t even League members?” Savage laughed. “I think the Light has underestimated the League’s partiality for those children. You will not contain me for long, no matter your precautions. Rest assured the Light will be using this knowledge to our benefit. Much the worse for your protégés.”

Hawkgirl turned a knob on the control panel. “You know,” she said, “you talk far too much. I’m getting nauseous listening to you pontificate like some fat, royal, never-ending slob.”

Though Vandal’s mouth was moving, nothing could be heard through the sound block she had activated. Hawkgirl raised a hand to her ear as if straining to hear him, then laughed. “You can hear me, but no one can hear you anymore. You aren’t going anywhere, Vandal, so just settle down on your bunk and catch some Z’s. I’m going for some coffee.”

She paused in front of his cell. “Would you like some?” Shayera tilted her head, holding a hand to her ear as she taunted. “What’s that? No? None for you? Fine. I’ll be back in a few.”

* * *

** Savage **

Alone in his cell, Vandal Savage contemplated his revenge on the Dark Knight. Batman would not get away with humiliating him. All the time in the world to plan, he laid down on his bunk. Perhaps, he would take the last Robin away from him first. Surely this would be devastating to lose all those soldiers he’d trained to continue his legacy. Only then would Savage return the favor and break the Bat’s neck.

Unbeknownst to him, above the door to the brig, gloved fingers took out the screws that attached the grate to the ventilation shaft. Moving quickly and silently, the grate was carefully removed as a helmeted figure dropped to the floor. There was only one occupied cell. Confirming the cell’s inhabitant, Red Hood turned toward the control console where he attached a tiny device to the panel. Moving back to the cell’s entrance, he pulled a small remote from his belt.

The prisoner had yet to notice his visitor.

But he would . . .

Activating the remote, the magnetic field fizzled out of existence. Savage sat up as Jason entered his cell. Hood reactivated the field. It wouldn’t do for the bastard to escape, not that the immortal would be in any condition for it soon.

“How did you do that?” Savage demanded. “I was told the cell was guarded by wards to prevent anyone from entering.”

“Then, you weren’t listening,” Red Hood told him. “The wards prevent anyone ‘ _magical_ ’ from entering and ‘ _you_ ’ from exiting. The wards don’t do shit about someone like me.”

Savage narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know you. I recognize the helmet you’re wearing, however. Someone once told me he wore one like it, but it is obvious that _you_ are _not_ him.”

“Your hearing sucks, but you get points for observation,” Jason remarked sarcastically.

“To what do I owe this visit?”

Removing his helmet, Jason dropped it to the floor beside his feet.

“Paranoid much?” Savage asked, smirking. He pointed to the redundancy of the red mask Jason had worn beneath the helmet.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Am I _supposed_ to know you?” He began laughing. “Another youngster, I can see. Tell me, have the adults all perished during my short incarceration?”

Ignoring the taunts, Jason growled. “You stabbed my brother.”

One of Savage’s eyebrows rose, intrigued. “Your brother?”

“Don’t you recognize me, Savage?”

Vandal shrugged. He hardly cared, but this was more entertaining than staring at the blank walls. “Sorry. I can’t say that I do.”

“I’m the man who is going to kill you,” Jason pulled his gun free and pointed it at Savage’s forehead. A small red dot appeared between the villain’s eyes.

“I’m not sure you know who _I_ am,” Vandal told him, amused. “I am immortal, boy. I cannot die. You cannot kill me.”

Unperturbed, Jason shrugged a shoulder, his aim never faltering. “I vote that we test that theory,” he said, pulling the trigger.

As the back of Vandal Savage’s head exploded, blood and gore slid down the wall behind him like a macabre waterfall. The immortal dropped at Jason’s feet like a felled tree. Outside of the cell, with the sound dampener activated, not a sound was heard.

* * *

** Jason **

Savage merely laid there like so much roadkill but, even if the Red Hood was unknown to Vandal, Jason Todd knew the immortal. Still, for several long, satisfying moments, the unending, would-be dictator was dead.

Nothing good ever lasted, however, and eventually the corpse on the floor twitched.

Had Jason not been looking for it, he might have missed seeing the villain’s fingers move. He watched as the back of the deflated head began to expand as new brain matter plumped up and freshly grown bone slid back into place, then skin knitted itself together over all of it. Hair began sprouting wherever the new skin appeared while the old hair and Savage’s clothing remained soaked with gore.

Jason’s lips lifted at the sound of Vandal’s pain-filled groans.

Savage might be immortal, but he could also be killed, and both the death and resurrection appeared to be extremely uncomfortable for the imperishable villain. When Vandal could speak, he glared hatefully at his uninvited guest.

“You little shit!” he roared. “You dare . . .!” Any trace of the man’s normal composure had fled with this latest insult.

Smiling, Jason was encouraged by the immortal’s ire.

“Now, that _is_ a nifty-looking trick. I wonder . . .” He remarked cheerfully. Leaning down, he asked, “Did it hurt? Cause, well, you know . . . It _looked_ like it hurt.”

“I told you I cannot die,” Savage snarled at him as he climbed to his feet. “You wasted your bullet, boy.”

Jason pretended to think on this then shook his head. “Nah . . . I don’t think so. You want to know why?”

He didn’t bother waiting for Savage to reply. Jason didn’t really care what the man said. He was here for retribution.

“I’ll tell you,” he volunteered. “See, I think what I did to you _hurt_. I think that pulling yourself back together hurts too. And, well,” he shrugged, “knowing that just makes it all . . . worthwhile.” Lifting his gun, Jason shot him again.

As unprepared for the second bullet as he had been for the first one, Savage was once more taken by surprise. The bullet plowed through the same spot as before and, for a second time that day, Vandal’s head blew out the back. The immortal fell to the floor in a lifeless heap, the position of his body a repeat of the earlier pose. The wall behind him resembled nothing so much as a scene from a horror flick.

Deciding to get comfortable, Jason leaned back against the wall near the cell entrance while he waited for Savage to put himself back together. He checked his watch. Five minutes passed before the villain groaned and picked himself up off the floor.

 _Interesting_. It took Savage a full minute longer to recover this time around.

Vandal whirled on Jason the moment he regained his feet. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Why don’t you tell me,” Jason murmured, pulling the trigger a third time.

Anticipating this, Savage attempted to avoid the bullet, but couldn’t move fast enough. Rather than hitting him between the eyes, the bullet entered the man’s temple. The power of Jason’s ammunition caused the left side of Vandal’s face to disappear in a spray of bone and brain matter as the immortal collapsed.

He should be feeling some level of satisfaction, but his anger hadn’t abated in the least. Dick would be suffering from Savage’s actions for the rest of his life. The fucker deserved to suffer more than a few paltry minutes before returning to perfect health.

No, Jason wasn’t done by half.

Seven minutes later, Savage pushed himself up into a sitting position. Resting his arm across his knees, he looked up at his tormentor. “If Nightwing is your brother, I hear tell he still lives. Why all this if he isn’t dead?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he leaned down, nostrils flaring. “Because it entertains me, you immortal fuck,” he snarled, firing off another round.

 _He has to be getting pissed_ , Jason decided as he moved to stand on the other side of the room.

As Vandal awoke, he leapt to his feet with a roar, prepared to tear his attacker to pieces with his bare hands but the boy wasn’t there. Hesitating only a split second before spinning around, Jason’s bullet caught him in the center of his chest. In a classic double-tap, he sent a second round in his head before Savage’s body went down.

Nine minutes later, Vandal’s body expelled the bullet, making a light clinking noise when it rolled off his chest and bounced off the metal paneled floor. The sound warned Jason the man had healed. Vandal moved slowly as he climbed to his feet and faced the boy.

“What part of immortal do you not understand?” He spoke carefully as if the boy was especially dull-witted. “Eventually, you will run out of bullets and when you do, I will still be here.”

“Yeah, that’s what you keep telling me. But, you see, I have questions,” Jason told him. “Are you _truly_ an immortal or do you just have a large allotment of times that you can be resurrected? Who’s to say that wasn’t your last time? That if I shot you again, you might be well and truly gone?”

“You waste my time.” Savage’s face grew red as he growled.

“Guess I’ll just have to make it up to you in your next life.” Jason shrugged and pulled the trigger.

Savage returned to consciousness ten minutes later with a roar.

“Quit doing th- . . .” His words were cut off as the next bullet tore through his throat.

* * *

** Savage **

Vandal fell backward into a puddle of his own blood. Several seconds passed before the darkness finally overtook him. He hated waiting for it. It was as the boy had said . . . Death _did_ hurt, as did his resurrection. Every. Damned. Time. He had long ago learned to put the pain aside during his death throes. If only the boy wasn’t so fucking infuriating. His anger made it difficult to concentrate, so he felt every sharp prick and painful tingle as his nerves knitted themselves back together.

He awoke with a sore throat, damn it.

“Are you done?” he croaked. His voice sounded like he had gargled glass.

Jason answered, “Not even a little.”

\----

Savage awoke annoyed, the pain was lingering. “Don’t let me bore you,” he grumbled, shoving himself to his feet.

His clothes were uncomfortably sticky with the cooling blood, his hair was matted with gore. He would need to shower for hours to get it all out. If he didn’t, the stench of death would follow him until he managed to rid himself of the last of the rotting flesh.

“No worries. I’m good,” Jason smirked.

\-----

When Vandal opened his eyes, he frowned. Even the ceiling had flecks of his blood marring its surface. Who knew blood could spray so high? The ceiling was at least four and a half meters high.

“I know you’re back,” Jason called out, interrupting his thoughts.

“You are an annoying little flea,” Savage snapped, still in his supine position. “When you run out of bullets, I will have my revenge. You will _beg_ for death ere I’m finished with you, boy.”

Jason snorted. “I hope you don’t have anything else planned for the afternoon, then. My magazine holds seventeen rounds. I have seven remaining.”

“Only seven?” Savage rolled to his side, laughing. “Well, have at it, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Jason lifted the left side of his jacket to reveal a second firearm. “This one holds seventeen, too,” he said casually. “As does the four extra magazines I have in my pockets, and the six I keep in my belt.”

Vandal scowled. “Were you expecting to fight off an army?”

“Failure to prepare means preparing to fail,” Jason quoted his mentor breezily. Some of Batman’s lessons had stuck.

\-----

The groan Vandal emitted as consciousness swept over him was long and frustrated.

“This grows old - . . .”

\-----

He awoke annoyed. The little shit hadn’t even bothered with conversation that last time.

Opening his eyes, Savage realized he had lost count of how many times the pissant had killed him. He would pretend weakness in an effort to lure his tormentor into a false sense of security and then he would pounce.

\-----

When next Savage awoke, it was to his face shoved into the corner of his cell, his head bent at an unusual angle. His body was bunched as if his corpse had plowed face-first into the wall. His usually sharp memory was slow in coming. Though loathe to admit it, Vandal ached all over. While the pain wouldn’t last – _It never lasted_ –he found he was having a difficult time rising above it.

Shoving away from the wall, Savage rolled over into a sitting position, struggling to contain the groan of pain the movement caused him. He found the youngster back in his original spot. It was the only area not blood-soaked in the cell, but the boy was not without evidence of his activities. Blood splattered his clothing, staining his shirt, jacket and the cargo pants he wore. He even had some droplets on . . .

“You have some of my . . . um, it’s on your face - right there,” Vandal told him, circling a finger over the corresponding area on his own face.

“I’ll shower later.” Jason didn’t bother wiping the flecks of blood away.

“What exactly are you trying to prove here?” Savage asked. He wondered if he sounded tired. He hoped not. He had never, in his 50,000 years of life, ever died and been resurrected so often in so short of time. It was exhausting.

The boy appeared mildly surprised by the question. “Prove? Me? Nothing.”

“Then why do all this? Your brother lives.” Savage argued.

“ _Why_?” The boy grew grim, and Vandal knew he could count this latest life in seconds.

“You may not be able to die permanently, Savage,” Jason snarled, “but, I mean to make you wish that you could.”

Vandal laughed. It was meant to sound derisive but came out weary. “You don’t have enough bullets on you for that,” he muttered.

“You’re repeating yourself.” Jason told him. “I don’t care.”

“Eventually, I _will_ escape this place,” Savage told him. “I always do . . . And then, I _will_ find you. I will torture you for months and make your death last for weeks before I spread whatever is left of you into the four winds. No one will ever find your body.”

The edges of the boy’s lips quirked up in amusement. “You’re threatening me with death? Sorry. Been there; done that. Have the t-shirt.” He straightened and pulled out his second pistol. “But you brought up an interesting point. Perhaps I’ve been going about this all wrong. Maybe we should play this game another way.”

Vandal screamed as Jason placed a bullet into each of the villain’s knees, shattering the joints, and one in the man’s stomach.

* * *

** Jason **

Holstering his weapons, Jay picked up his helmet.

“There are always consequences to your actions, Savage,” Jason said, settling the helmet over his head. “You think about that as you lay there, bleeding out.”

Fingering the remote, he left the cell, careful to put the forcefield back into place. Jason stopped to grab his hacking device. With all the precautions the League set in place, no one was worried Vandal Savage would escape. It was even less likely now. At least until Savage healed himself but Hawkgirl would still be back soon to check on him.

He was surprised she hadn’t interrupted him already, but it didn’t matter now. He had accomplished what he had set out to do. It wasn’t enough – Would never be enough – but, it would have to do. Maybe Dick would appreciate the effort, but Jay knew that Goldie would never admit it even if he did.

 _That’s okay_ , Jay thought to himself. _At least,_ _I’ll be able to sleep after this_. _Maybe, better than I have in a long time_.

Climbing back into the ventilation shaft, he screwed the grate back into place. Wearing Savage’s blood would draw attention he preferred to avoid. He wouldn’t stay to watch the fireworks that would begin the moment Hawkgirl returned and glimpsed Savage’s cell. He would be on earth before the alarm went off and the Watchtower went on lockdown.

Of course, they’d know it was him. There were security cameras all over the place. Jason had disabled all but one of them before he had entered the room. The one left would show Jason entering the cell from an angle that hid what happened after that. sixty minutes later, they’d see a blood-splattered version of him exiting.

No one may approve of his actions, but after what Savage did to Dick, he doubted anyone would blame him for it.

* * *

** Shayera **

She’d been gone too long, not that she was worried. No one was getting past the League’s defenses, and there was no way Vandal Savage could escape. She had watched several of her magically endowed, fellow Leaguers place those wards herself.

If she had her way, though, she’d like to take a few minutes and follow Batman’s lead. Vandal Savage deserved far more than the mere inconvenience of a quick death. Superman shouldn’t have interrupted their teammate. The way she understood it, Batman’s relationship to his partners went beyond mentor and student; Dinah had told her they were his sons.

Having known and worked with Batman years before the Justice League formed, she thought Black Canary would know. Shayera had no doubt what she would do had she been in Batman’s place. Her fingers slid down to caress her mace dangling at her side. The Nth metal would certainly put a dent in Savage’s immortality.

She’d prefer to be anywhere but here, forced to watch over the self-proclaimed ruler of the earth. Not only was the man an arrogant ass of a Thanagarian Yorraga beast, but he was a talker on top of it. Thank goodness for sound blocking technology.

Setting her coffee on the console, Shayera turned to check on the bastard . . .

“ _Yob Shiggurath!”_ She gasped. “What happened to you?”

Savage sat propped against the bed’s platform. He was drenched in blood and bits of – She chose not to think too closely about the bits and chunks caught in his hair. She could see only one sliver of skin on his face that was somehow devoid of gore. The whites of his eyes shone out of a mask of red when he raised his head to look at her. His lips moved but there was no sound.

It took her a moment to remember the sound block. She slapped her hand down on the switch. Vandal’s voice was weak and breathless when she could finally hear him.

“Heh, I uh . . . don’t suppose . . . you have a cell with a . . . a shower, do . . . you?” He blinked slowly, lifting his hand from a wound in his abdomen. “I’m a bit . . . sticky.”

“Who did this to you?” She demanded.

“Forgive . . . me. I’ll . . . be back . . . in a . . . a few minutesssss . . .” His head dropped onto his chest as his grasp on life faltered.

Shayera was no stranger to blood, but this made even her cast-iron stomach churn. She was going to have to report this. Shaking her head, she turned away.

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” she muttered as she touched the comm. “Guys? We have a problem.”

Wonder Woman’s voice came through the intercom. “What happened? Is Savage still in his cell?”

“Oh, he’s in his cell alright. More like all over it,” she clarified dryly.

“I don’t understand.”

“While I stepped out to grab some coffee, Savage appears to have had a visitor.” Shayera explained. She checked the cameras only to discover all but one still recording. “I’m going to need some help down here. Oh, and you might tell them to bring a mop and bucket when they come.”

After a moment, Diana’s voice came through. “I’ll be right there.”

* * *

** Clark **

Superman glanced at the figure in the bed, grimacing. Clark was supposed to be invincible but seeing Dick like this hurt as much as a pound of kryptonite. Of all people, that this should have happened to him was wrong. In his head, images of Dick as a nine-year-old flipping all over the Batcave came to him. He had been so full of questions and laughter, and a never-ending supply of effervescent energy. The boy had already been Robin for the better part of a year before Superman had found the opportunity to meet him. The flood of memories forced the Man of Steel to look away.

The reason he was back here was to speak to the person standing in front of the window, looking out but unseeing. The sight of the earth, spinning below them like a beautiful, multi-colored marble hung on a backdrop of black velvet and diamonds was wasted on him.

“Is he asleep?” Clark asked as a way of greeting. He already knew the answer to that from the rhythm of the boy’s breathing and the slow, steady beat of his heart.

Bruce’s cowl lay discarded on the chair nearby. He wasn’t surprised by his visitor. Although Clark was the one with super hearing, he knew that Bruce had been aware of his presence even before he entered the room. He didn’t turn when he answered.

“He finally succumbed to the medication an hour ago,” Bruce murmured. “You came to speak to me about Savage. Say what you want, Clark, I do not regret my actions in the least.”

“It’s not your actions I’m here to talk about.” Clark saw that he had his friend’s attention. “Red Hood visited Vandal Savage after we left the brig. I’ve been told that Red Hood is Jason. Bruce, is that true?”

“It is.”

“How? How could it be? I was at his funeral.” He shouldn’t be shocked. It wasn’t as though people haven’t miraculously returned from the dead. Even he had done so once after being stabbed during a battle with Doomsday.

“He had help,” Bruce said simply.

When no other information was forthcoming, Clark stepped up to the window beside his friend. Bruce could have been a statue for all the emotion he was showing. Even snapping Savage’s neck had appeared to be a cold and calculated move on his part. Clark had overheard some of the criticism by those who didn’t understand the man, but Clark knew better. He had long ago learned that the colder, more detached that Batman appeared, the greater the pain he felt.

There was nothing he wanted to do more than to let the man be, to let him grieve for his son’s loss. Leaving him alone seemed the only thing anyone could do to comfort the man, but they needed to discuss this. What Jason had done was beyond what was acceptable, even when consumed by grief and rage, and this was without the added concerns over the breach in the Watchtower’s security.

“No one’s sure how he got in.” Superman said quietly so as not to disturb the boy’s sleep. “If it were Dick instead of Jason, the question of how would be moot, but as of right now, the Watchtower’s security has been compromised. We’ll need a full overhaul with diagnostics to plug any weaknesses left behind.”

Batman grunted his acknowledgement. “It shouldn’t be an issue. I can do a scan and run a few scenarios if you like, but the system should be fine. No worries.”

Clark gaped at him. “No -? How can you say that? Red Hood entered the Watchtower without the computer logging his arrival. No one was aware of his presence. That alone is cause for concern. But he did so for the express purpose of breaking into the brig to torture our prisoner. He was there for an hour and not a single alarm went off in all that time.”

He didn’t know what he was expected, but certainly more than what he received. “Bruce . . .”

“Jason . . . has some problems, but he wouldn’t endanger the Watchtower or risk Savage escaping,” Bruce told him finally, “not with Dick being in traction and unable to move.”

Superman glanced back at the bed, but there was no variation in Dick’s breathing or his heartrate. Realizing this could turn into an argument, Clark had no desire to wake the young man by accident. He would need to keep his voice soft.

“I came here as soon as I saw the video. I honestly expected to find him here,” Clark said. “It seems as inconceivable that Jason would have left the Watchtower without checking on Dick as it does to imagine his psychosis. He’s not the boy I remember, Bruce. You should have said something about his instability. Jason shouldn’t be walking around out there when he is obviously a ticking time bomb. Who knows what he could do? Savage is only alive now because his body can regenerate itself.”

“Jason is not a danger to the public,” Bruce assured him. “Criminals, however, . . .”

“Criminals! Speaking of which, there’s a report about fourteen criminals being taken to Gotham General over the course of last night. Put there by a young man wearing a leather jacket and a red helmet . . .” Clark ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“Are they all still alive?”

Superman gaped at him. “Yes, but it was a close thing. Bruce, what you did to Savage . . . I get it. You went in knowing that he would survive and be healed. I allowed it because you needed to punish him somehow for what he did to Dick, but Jason? We don’t deal in _torture_ , Bruce.”

Batman stiffened. Clark could hear his jaw creaking with tension.

“You allowed me?” he said, low in his throat.

It was a threatening sound to be sure. If Clark wasn’t Kryptonian, he might have been intimidated. It was the truth that when having to confront the Bat with unpleasantness, more times than not, it was Superman who did it.

“Do you, even for a second, believe that I didn’t want to do what Jason did to that animal? If there was anyone I could unleash on without breaking my vow, it is Savage. But with a room full of concerned colleagues ready to drag me out at a moment’s notice, what was the use. I won’t waste the energy. But if you think I’m going to chastise or punish Jason for what he did - you don’t know me very well at all.” Bruce growled. “I say to you again, no one is dead. Although, you know as well as I do that had Savage gotten his way, Dick would have been.”

Clark sucked in his breath. “I understand how you must feel but Bruce, if you don’t deal with Jason, then the League will have no choice but to step in and take care of this ourselves.”

Bruce spun around, glaring at him. “You think you understand? Jason is back through some miracle, but I nearly lost him all over again because I went easy on Joker.”

“Breaking two-thirds of that psychopathic clown’s bones was easy?” Clark scoffed.

“What the hell is Dick going to think if I do nothing? Savage is so long-lived that anything we do to him is _less_ than nothing.”

“Savage isn’t going to get away with this,” Clark tried to assure him. “You’re worried about Dick, but you’re not going to lose him.”

“There are other ways to lose someone besides death, Clark.”

“This won’t be the same as it was with Joker. And Dick isn’t Jason; he’ll understand.”

“He shouldn’t have to understand!” Bruce snapped quietly through clenched teeth, his voice barely in check.

“But Jason . . .”

“You will leave Jason to me,” Bruce interrupted, his momentary lapse in control had vanished and the wall was back up. “He’s not your concern.”

“And what about the breach to our security? Shouldn’t that be cause for concern?”

Batman turned back to staring out the window. “Cyborg is going over the system even as we speak. I will find a moment to look into some new preventative measures against hacking into the zeta-tube later, but I’m not concerned. This wasn’t a regular breach. Jason isn’t a hacker, or at least not one on a level that the League should be concerned with. If I’m correct, and I believe I am, the breach was Dick’s doing.”

Clark raised an eyebrow, skeptically. “Dick? Dick’s in no position to hack into the zeta-tube’s protocols.”

“It wouldn’t have happened today. After Savage’s first attempt to take over the League, I suspected that Robin wanted to make certain that he had a backdoor handy, just in case something like that ever happened again. What I hadn’t expected was for him to have shared the information with Jason . . . Or that Dick didn’t change the codes after Jason’s death.”

“Do we need to worry that Jason will return? Moving Savage is risky, but we can’t have a wild card going in and out of his cell, and the torture - Bruce, that was too . . .”

“He won’t return,” Bruce assured him.

“How do you know that?”

“Jason did what he had to do. He’s done.”

“And that’s it? Has having a psychopath on the loose in Gotham become the norm for you, then?”

Bruce glared at him. “This is a _family_ matter, Clark. It will be handled within the family.”

Clark’s mouth tightened regretfully. “We used to be like family . . .”

“You’re going to wake him,” Bruce said, ignoring the observation.

Unhappy with the course of their conversation, Clark nodded at the dismissal. “Very well. But Bruce . . .”

“ _No one_ touches Jason, Clark.”

“Fine. I’ll tell the others. We’ll expect you to handle this.” Clark moved toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle. “For what it’s worth, though, I’m sorry. Dick was one of the best. He didn’t deserve this.”

“Dick’s still alive, Clark. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak about him in the past tense,” Bruce replied coldly.

He blinked in surprise as he realized what he had said. “Ah, hell. I apologize, Bruce. I didn’t realize – I didn’t mean . . .Shit.” Clark ran a hand over his face. “I was speaking of Nightwing, not of Dick himself.” He needed to shut up now.

Silence answered him. Sighing, Clark left the room feeling like he had accomplished nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REACTIONS??  
> Curious as to your thoughts on this one. Jason doesn't mess around . . .


	12. Racing Ostriches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason is confronted by Batman; Dick has visitors; and Tim has a plan. - Both Angst and Humor is found here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Language

It was nearly five o’clock in the morning when Jason climbed back through his window and into his apartment. It had only been eight weeks since he moved in here, right after his visit to the Watchtower - and Savage, because he couldn’t imagine that somebody from the League wouldn’t come looking for him. If not the League, Batman would have shown up. Jason had tortured Vandal Savage for an hour, shooting him over and over each time he returned from the dead. But, so far as he could tell, no one had come for him. Not even Bruce.

He didn’t know what to think about that . . .

 _Huh. I could have stuck around and shot the bastard a few more times_ , Jason thought sourly as he took off his gun belt, placing it on his kitchen table, an old Formica deal that wobbled every time something was set on it. Exhausted, all he wanted to do was collapse in his bed, but his guns needed cleaned and he really should take a shower. The hot water might help him sleep.

Sleep - Now, there was a luxury in short supply. He hadn’t gotten more than a few hours’ sleep since Wally’s rescue. Alcohol didn’t even help, not that Jason wasn’t willing to let it try. Unfortunately, every time he closed his eyes, he saw Dick lying on his side with that damned knife sticking out of his back; his blood seeping into the ground beneath him.

The last time the brothers had spoken had been through the metal door that had fallen between them several levels below Savage’s Turkish castle. In the dream, however, Dick had blamed him for not following him into that labyrinth, for not protecting his back.

Tugging his helmet off, Jay peered inside his refrigerator. Empty but for some moldy cheese, a quart of expired milk, a single beer, and a jar of pickles. Grabbing the beer, he turned around and froze.

Someone was in his apartment . . .

So distracted by his thoughts, Jason hadn’t realized it until now. He glanced in the direction of his guns. His place was small, but the distance was daunting considering who he would be up against. If his ‘guest’ decided to attack him, he’d never make it. His gaze swept the rest of the living room/kitchen combo that made up the majority of his two-room apartment.

The sky was beginning to lighten outside, but inside everything was still in shadows. His gaze fell on the far corner. Had it been anyone else, Ra’s Lazarus Pit would have been wasted as Jason’s distraction should have proven fatal. As luck would have it, he knew his visitor had a distaste for murder.

“Fuck it,” he snapped, irritated more at himself than his guest. “I know you’re there. Might as well step out where I can see you.”

As the shadow moved, the shape of a bat appeared. After all these years, the drama of seeing him appear out of nowhere still fucking impressed him. One would think he would have been used to it by now.

“I know Alfred taught you better manners than that.” It was Bruce’s voice that came out from under the cowl. He wasn’t even trying to growl.

So, he wasn’t here as Batman come to haul his ass in, then. Despite the costume, he was here as Bruce. Though his heart was pounding, Jason forced the tension in his body to ease.

“Yeah, well, Alfred isn’t here, is he?” Jason snarked, using the countertop to pop the top off the bottle. “I’d offer you a beer, but this is my last one and I figure I need it more than you.”

Taking a swig, Jay wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, purposefully trying to offend. “So, why are _you_ here?”

A thousand thoughts ran through his head, but only one remained. _Dick’s dead_.

His gut churned, threatening to reject the beer. _Oh God_ . . . _Oh, fuck_! _That’s the only reason Bruce would bother to track me down_.

“You should sit down,” Bruce said, stepping forward.

 _Oh God_ . . .

“When . . .? I mean, what happened?” Jason stammered. Any lingering hope that Dick might someday forgive him was gone, not that he’d deserved it. “Damn it! Roy told me he’d been stabilized.”

“Sit down before you fall down,” Bruce crossed the distance in four steps, grabbing Jason’s arm and shoving him into the kitchen chair. Correctly reading Jason’s facial expression, Bruce quickly eliminated that false impression, “Dick isn’t dead.”

Relief washed over him as Jason blinked up at him. “Wha-? He’s not? Then why _are_ you here, if not to . . .?”

“I’m here because it’s been two months since your brother was injured . . .”

“He’s not my brother,” Jason blurted. _Not anymore_. When Savage had stabbed Dick, he managed to destroy more than one life.

“Yes, he _is_ ,” Bruce insisted. “You’ve been left alone to brood long enough, Jason. You have a family whether you want it or not. It’s time you are part of it.”

Jason snorted. “What do you want from me?”

“Dick’s been asking after you,” Bruce said.

“What? You want me to send him a card or something?” Acting neutral was harder than he expected.

“A visit might be nice,” Bruce murmured.

“I figured I wouldn’t be welcomed back on the Watchtower.”

“Dick’s been at the manor for two weeks.”

“Oh?” As desperate as he was for information, he’d be damned if he’d ask for it.

“He’s out of traction - Well, for the most part. Midnite agreed to it as long as he wears a brace.”

“So, is it true?” Jay asked.

In his head, he knew it was true, but the last two months had felt surreal, like he had been walking around in a nightmare. Whatever vain hope he held that one morning he would wake up and everything would be back to normal – whatever the hell normal was – disappeared.

“He really is . . . paralyzed?”

The muscles in Bruce’s jaw worked, but it was his only reaction. Jay almost snorted. The man really was made of ice, apparently. Part of Jason was a little disappointed. He had expected something different for the golden boy, Bruce’s perfect son, like he should have been able to beat the unbeatable odds against him.

“So far, yes.”

Jason frowned. “So far? You mean, there’s a chance he could walk again? Is that what Midnite told you?”

Bruce’s lips tightened. “I have hopes that, maybe, if we can locate the right doctor . . .”

Running a hand over his face, Jason slumped in his chair. “Ah, fuck me. So, that would be a no.” H found himself becoming angry on Dickface’s behalf. “Damn it, Bruce. I hope like hell you aren’t saying stupid shit like that in front him.”

Bruce stiffened. “I don’t know what . . .”

“Cut the crap! God-damn it, you can’t be that dense.”

“Until we’ve exhausted every possibility . . .”

“You’re an asshole. Do you know that?” Jay snapped. “No, you probably don’t. No one has the fucking balls to stand up to you, do they? Not as Bruce Wayne and certainly not as the God-damn Batman,” Jay snapped.

“Language!”

“ _Fuck that_! You’re letting Dick believe that he could walk again? I saw the knife, Bruce. I don’t need x-rays and experts to tell me jack-shit. I _know_ what that bastard did to him. It wasn’t something anyone could walk away from,” Jason yelled at him.

Bruce turned away. His shoulders fell as he crossed to the other side of the room. “He knows, Jason. He’s done a fairly good job pretending he doesn’t so far, but he realizes. I believe Dick is just humoring me in an effort to make the situation easier for me to accept.”

 _Damn it_! He hated this, hated that hidden desire deep down inside of him that wanted to go see Dick, see how he was really taking it. He wanted - Jay slammed his beer down on the table – He _wanted_ that thing back, that thing that they’d had between them just after he had given Dick the news about Wally. That something they’d shared for all of five fucking minutes during the rescue . . .

 _Brothers_.

Bruce had called him that today, but it didn’t make it true. Dick didn’t want him - _couldn’t_ want _him_ \- except maybe for target practice. He supposed the guy had a right to that, and Jason certainly had it coming.

“Jason. I know we’ve had our difference since you’ve come back. You’ve been angry, felt betrayed by me . . . I get it. I understand that. But don’t let what you feel about me prevent you from visiting Dick . . .”

Jason stood up so fast that his chair fell over. He pointed his helmet at the man. “You don’t get to tell me shit! The only reason you’re here is because you think Dick wants to see me. You don’t give a flying fuck about me . . .”

“That’s not true. Jason, I know you’re angry still about Joker, but I explained to you why I couldn’t . . .”

“ _Shut up_!” Jay screamed, throwing his helmet at Bruce’s head.

Of course, the man caught it, setting it down on the trunk Jason used as a coffee table. Someone pounded on the wall, one of his neighbors. He ignored it.

“Shut the fuck up! This isn’t about him.”

Bruce sighed, nodding. “I can’t fix the mistakes that I’ve made, nor I don’t expect you to forgive me . . .”

“Screw you.”

“Right. I’m going.”

Walking back to the window he had entered through, Batman slid it open. He paused with one boot on the ledge.

“This _isn’t_ your fault, you know. What happened to Nightwing. No one blames you. _I_ certainly don’t. You shouldn’t blame yourself either,” Bruce told him. The man sounded as tired as Jason felt. “But if you could put your anger aside for a few minutes and be there for your brother . . . I know, Dick would appreciate it.”

With that, Batman shot off his grapple and was gone. He didn’t wait around to see the effects his words had, and it was just as well.

“ _FUCK_!”

Jason kicked his helmet across the room where it slammed into his nineteen-inch television. It sounded like a gun going off as it embedded itself into the decades-old picture tube. Sparks flew out around it, going went out before hitting the floor. The black-and-white electronic was no big loss.

Although he didn’t think it was a fire hazard, Jason still yanked the cord out of the wall just in case. In the silent aftermath, Jason noticed that his previously irate neighbors had also gone quiet. Probably more scared of me right now than angry, he figured.

 _Good_ , he thought. _Maybe now I’ll be able to get some sleep_.

Jason began stripping off his clothes on his way to the bedroom with Bruce’s request still fresh in his mind.

 _Yeah. Like that was going to happen after that visit,_ Jason snorted at the thought, _Not_.

* * *

Looking in the window, Jason frowned. Dickhead’s bedroom looked different from the inviting space he remembered. Gone was the queen-sized bed, in its place was a hospital bed complete with rails and a trapeze bar that dangled from above to help Dick lift his upper body from off the mattress. There were metal attachments at the head and footboard Jay knew were used if the doc decided Dick was in need of traction.

 _If Dick no longer needs traction, they should get rid of those pieces_ , Jason thought critically. _No sense in torturing the guy with reminders of what he went through_.

There was a hospital tray nearby and a big metal contraption with some kind of sling on it. Jay suspected Alfred was using it to move Dick in and out of bed. A wheelchair sat in another corner with a high back for better support. Jason rubbed his chest. It hurt seeing all this shit in the manor and it wasn’t even there for him.

The wind was picking up. A couple of large raindrops hit him as the leaves of the big elm tree outside Dick’s window rustled, reminding Jason of the incoming storm. If he was going to go, he should do it now. As it was, he’d still be drenched before making it back to his apartment. Thunder rumbled low in the distance, an ominous promise of things yet to come.

Jason glanced back into the room. Against his better judgment, he tapped lightly on the glass, but Dick didn’t respond. Either he really didn’t want to see Jason as Bruce had claimed or he was asleep. Spotting the myriad medication lined up like little soldiers on the dresser, he suspected it was the latter.

A flash of lightning behind him decided him. Pulling his knife out of his boot, he was preparing to slip it between the window and the lock when Jay hesitated. Bruce had asked him to visit. He probably meant for Jason to enter through the front door like a normal person, but knowing Bruce, he likely alerted the second Jason stepped foot on the property. The big man had to be prepared for this, otherwise alarms would already gone off by now.

Tucking the knife back into his boot, Jay placed his hands on the window frame and shoved. The window slid upward, smoothly, silently.

 _Unlocked_.

Apparently, he’d been expected since no one came crashing through the door. Stepping into the room, he took the time to close the window as to prevent the rain from entering. It took some effort to turn around and walk over to the bed. Jason took off his helmet and looked down at the guy who had given him his Robin costume so long ago. Despite their fights since his return from the grave, Jason knew deep down that Dick would have given anything to save him, up to and including his own life.

The anger that had ridden Jason since he came out of that sludge that was the Lazarus Pit had been all-encompassing. He’d been half-out of his head with it. While he was still angry, what Jason felt now was directed more at himself than anyone else.

At least Dick had an excuse; Nightwing hadn’t even been on earth when Joker had killed Robin. Not so, Jason. No, Jason had let a damned door and his jerk-brother talk him out of doing his job and look where it had gotten them. The black and metal back-brace Dick wore was visible above the blanket, looking uncomfortable as hell.

“Idiot,” he whispered. “Stupid, fucking idiot.”

His throat closed-up with the force of his regret, forcing him to turn away. Instead, he browsed through the medication bottles. A couple of these were powerful painkillers. _Huh_. People didn’t often associate paralysis with pain, but Dick’s upper body could still feel it, so seeing them here made sense.

Wandering around the room, Jason studied the equipment that was now a permanent part of Dick’s life. The sling-thing he saw was called a Hoyer. The instructions lay nearby with pictures detailing the transferring of the patient from bed to wheelchair. He moved to the wheelchair itself. This thing was a monstrosity and had a pillowed mold in the seat that was intended to prevent the occupant from sliding out of the chair.

 _God_ . . . _How bad of shape is he_? Jason wondered, glancing back toward the bed.

Therapy would be starting soon if it hadn’t already begun. Hopefully, as he improved, got stronger, Dick could get a different chair - something not quite so . . . _Pathetic_ , Jason thought, grimacing.

 _What am I doing here_?

Seeing what his brother’s life had become, he knew there was no way Dick wanted to see him. Bruce was full of shit as usual.

Looking to the window, Jason watched the rain smacking against the panes, making little splattering sounds that would increase in volume and intensity with every new gust of wind. Lightning flashed, followed by the deep, rolling thunder. It was only going to get worse out there over the next several hours.

Seeing a small fridge propped in the corner, Jason opened it, happily finding it was stocked full of everything from water and protein shakes, sports drinks to juice. Smiling, he plucked a chocolate milk from the door. Making his way to the upholstered chair near the bed, Jay made himself comfortable. He would drink his milk and wait the storm out, then head home before anyone was the wiser.

Golden Boy . . . Grimacing, Jason decided the nickname he’d given Bruce’s perfect first son no longer fit. He’d have to find a new one.

Sipping his milk, Jason’s thoughts turned towards himself. He would need to reconsider his place in the family. A few days ago, he would have sworn that he was alone in the world. The jury was still out on that one. That might still be the case if Dick woke up and saw him sitting here . . . But Bruce’s words the other night had been rolling around in Jason’s head nonstop, feeding into that old desire to belong to something or someone, drawing it out of hiding.

When thunder crashed nearby, Jay watched Dick’s face carefully, sighing when there was no reaction. The painkillers were obviously doing double-duty, working also as a sleep agent. A marching band, cymbals and all, could come into the room and Dick wouldn’t notice a thing before morning.

Propping his boots up on the bed’s railing, he decided he might as well relax. The storm wasn’t scheduled to die down for another couple of hours yet.

* * *

Tim opened the door to his brother’s room. Alfred and Bruce would be up shortly to tend to Dick’s physical needs, but it was his job to tend to Dick’s emotional health. In other words, he was the pep squad sent in to keep the patient’s spirits up.

“Hey!” he chimed as he entered the room. The sun was already shining through the window and across the bed. “Good morning . . .”

“Sh,” Dick shushed him.

“What?” Tim hesitated.

This was the first time Dick had shushed him upon entering. Usually, he was putting on a cheerful front or else throwing something heavy at his head. His older brother’s moods were nothing if not mercurial, shifting from one extreme to the other with little to no warning.

Holding his finger to his lips, Dick nodded at the chair. Facing away from Tim as it was, he couldn’t see who was sitting in it.

“Don’t wake him,” Dick whispered as Tim’s gaze finally landed on the red helmet that sat on the floor at its feet.

 _Jason_?

Rounding the corner of the winged chair, Tim gaped in surprise at the family’s black sheep. Head leaning against the edge of the chair and mouth dangling, Jason snored softly.

Moving closer to Dick, Tim whispered, “When did he get here?”

Shrugging caused Dick to grimace painfully.

 _His painkillers are wearing off_ , the younger boy noticed. Retreating to the dresser, Tim rummaged through the various bottles for the right medication. Dick could be extra grumpy when he was hurting . . . Although, Tim admitted, he didn’t seem especially grouchy this morning.

“Don’t know. He was like that when I woke up,” Dick murmured.

Carrying the meds over with a bottled water, Tim handed them over, then dug out his phone to take a picture. Drool dribbled off Jason’s chin to run down the front of his jacket. With his neck at an uncomfortable angle, he figured Jay was going to wake up pissy, especially when he realized he had an audience.

“Don’t let him know you got a picture of him like that,” Dick smiled after he took the pills.

“What? No way.” Tim gave him a look of disbelief. “He’d try to kill me . . . Again.” It was a little unsettling when Dick agreed with him.

“He might,” Dick nodded. “Just make sure you send a copy to my phone before he makes you eat yours.”

Laughing in the face of death, that was him alright. Tim sent the photo, but not just to Dick’s phone. He sent copies to Bruce and Alfred’s phones too, along with a text to be quiet when they came in so as not to wake the sleeping beauty.

 _I may die over this, but yeah - Still totally worth it_ . . .

“Do you need anything right away?”

“Nah,” Dick shook his head. “I’m good for now. Will be better once the pills kick in. Tell Alfred to send up an extra breakfast when he comes.”

“Right.” Tim walked back to the door. “Think I’ll go while I can. See you this afternoon.”

* * *

Dick waved as his youngest brother closed the door behind him. Sighing, he relaxed back into his pillow, allowing the painkillers to do their job. He was just happy to see Jason again. He’d been reassured by several people that Jason was okay, that he had simply been busy taking out his anger and frustration on the criminals around Gotham.

 _Jay must be doing a decent job of it_ , Dick thought to himself, _if Bruce isn’t bothering to go out on regular patrols_.

With everyone that had been on the mission now accounted for, Dick could now turn his attention back onto himself. Unfortunately, his medication did nothing for the pain those thoughts brought with them. So, he pushed them out of his mind as he had begun doing weeks ago, choosing instead to spend the next hour watching Jason sleep.

In this, at least, he could let one worry go.

* * *

It traveled up from his back and into his neck and head. Deep, pulsating pain. The kind that made your head spin and your stomach churn. Dick looked at the clock. The pain meds had worn off almost an hour ago. He was allowed more but, glancing around him at his guests, he sighed.

Tim had shown up with Roy and Wally right about that time. He’d seen all three of them often during the last few weeks on the Watchtower. That had been when Dr. Midnite had begun easing Dick into the back-brace and allowing him a few minutes out of traction.

God, he had hated the traction bed. Hated people seeing him weak, vulnerable - pathetic. There had been very few visitors early in his recovery because of this, just Bruce and Tim and, occasionally, Wally and Artemis. Only later, after he had been fitted for the back-brace, did Dick allow other visitors - Once he could sit up to greet them.

In the beginning, the pain had been excruciating, tolerating the brace for a measly twenty minutes at a time. but slowly Dick began to manage longer periods. An hour here, an hour there, each time suffering in agony for the duration but, at least he could sit up; at least, he could move his arms and head. So, putting the pain in a box, he shoved it down deep inside where no one could see it.

And, it was then and only then, that he began allowing visitors to see him.

Sitting up longer now, Dick tried to push it a little further each day. The home health nurse fussed at him for it, but Bruce, Alfred, and Leslie, who had taken over his care, stoically bore his bad temper and gave him his way part of the time. Therapy was scheduled to begin on Monday, and Dick had no little fear of the horrors that would entail. Still, if it meant he could get out of the damned bed, he would grit his teeth and bear it.

“I swear, Dick, if you tell another one of those damned jokes, I’m going to go home,” Jason groaned.

Only his second visit, Dick wasn’t sure if Jay’s first visit had counted. He had slept through most of it then, when he woke up, Jason had been asleep. His brother had barely said two words to him when he had finally come around, just wrapped his eggs in his pancakes and taken off.

Two days later, Jason was back, so there was no way Dick was giving him an excuse to leave. Who knew if or when he would return? While Dick would turn his friends away when his things got bad, he would grin and bear it if it meant his brother stuck around a while longer.

So, Dick clenched his jaw and smiled. “You like my jokes, admit it.”

“I admit nothing,” Jay grumped, but the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes gave him away.

If Dick told jokes, it was to disguise his own lines of distress as laughter. “What kind of shoes do frogs wear?” he asked.

Roy and Wally started laughing before the joke was fully out of Dick’s mouth.

Jason looked at them, exasperated. “Stop it! You’re only encouraging him.”

“So, what kind of shoes do they wear?” Tim asked, curiously.

As clever as the boy was, he never seemed to guess the answers to the ridiculously childish riddles. The grin that appeared on Dick’s face at the question this time was genuine. He suspected Tim faked his ignorance just to make Dick happy, but today, he suspected Tim was doing it more to annoy Jason.

“Tim!” Jason snapped.

The strategy appeared to be working.

“Open-Toad . . .” Dick announced with a short laugh.

Jason slapped his forehead in mock irritation, much to everyone’s continued amusement. “Ah, that’s the worst one yet.”

Wally gasped for breath. “No. No, the strawberry one – that was the worst,”

Roy grinned. “The cat jokes . . .”

“I kind of liked the cat jokes,” Tim argued, snickering.

“You all are nuts,” Jason proclaimed. “Seriously, I must be the only sane one here.”

“You know you like them, Jay,” Dick teased. “Just admit it.”

“Where do you find all of these, anyway?” Roy asked.

“Online?” Tim offered as a possibility.

Jason snorted. “lamejokeRUS.com . . .”

“Really?”

“No, West,” Jason rolled his eyes at Wally. “Not really. I just made it up.”

Tim looked up from his phone. “No, wait, hold up. That really is a site.”

“You’re kidding?” Roy gaped at him.

Tim held up his hand. “Yeah, but it’s a dot-org rather than a dotcom. Here, listen. Why couldn’t the bike stand up on its own?”

Roy and Wally looked at one another as Dick snorted and answered. “Because it was two-tired.”

Jason collapsed back into his chair with a ‘God, help me’ expression on his face.

Roy chuckled. “That’s it for you, Dick. No more Internet.”

There was a tap on the door, and Bruce walked in. “I have a job for all of you,” he spoke to the room at large.

The levity in the room fell away.

“What do you need?” Roy asked, standing up.

Bruce walked over to the bed where he eyed his eldest critically. “You look a little pale. Getting tired?”

He was, but he continued to deny it. It had been less than two hours, for God’s sake. He refused to look pitiful in front of his friends, but this was Bruce, and his adopted father knew him well enough to recognize the signs. Grunting, Bruce glancing up at the time. Moving over to the dresser, he plucked the painkillers out of the bunch, then dropping two in his hand pulled a water from the fridge.

“I realize that you have company, but you know when it’s time for your next dose,” Bruce chided gently, dropping the pills in Dick’s hand. He opened the bottle and handed it to him.

“Right. Thanks,” Dick murmured quietly.

He didn’t want to make a big deal out of this, but the pain made any arguments he might have made over it moot. Truth was, he was grateful. He took the pills quickly, accepting the water bottle.

Bruce frowned at Tim. “The others aren’t aware of Dick’s schedule, but you should have noticed.”

Straightening in his chair, Tim looked up at the clock. He hadn’t noticed, since leading Roy and Wally in, how much time had passed.

“Oh man! I’m sorry, Dick. I didn’t realize.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed something?”

 _Maybe because I didn’t want to look even more wretched than I already am_.

It was bad enough that he couldn’t sit up for a couple of hours with his friends without succumbing to the pain; he didn’t want to advertise his weakness.

What he said was, “It wasn’t that bad yet,” he muttered.

“There is no reason for you to allow it to get bad at all,” Bruce told him. “The doctor prescribed you the painkillers for a reason.”

“They make me sleepy,” he complained. “And I’m fine, by the way” Dick insisted, ignoring the deep throbbing ache that began in his back near his waist and rose up to drive pitons into the back of his skull. “Really. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

Wally frowned. “You shouldn’t _have_ to handle it.” At Dick’s glare, he adjusted his words. “I mean, we know you capable of dealing with it, but why should you?”

“We probably overstayed our welcome anyway,” Roy inserted. “If Batman has a job, we should go and let you rest.”

“I’m not tired,” Dick groused. Not yet anyway, however, this was only a matter of time now that he had taken the medication. Bruce and Tim’s knowing looks only succeeded in annoying him.

“Well, no one needs to run off for _this_ job,” Bruce said. “I’m sure it’s something Dick will want to have a say in.”

Roy returned to his seat. Bruce had everyone’s attention now.

“The rumor mill began a couple of weeks ago, when we applied for home healthcare and arranged for your therapy. The press has been chomping at the bit to know who in the manor was injured, how it happened, and so on,” he explained. “The ‘who’ will need to be announced soon, along with a convincing story as to the ‘how’.” Bruce looked around the room. “Any suggestions?”

* * *

All the Bats had lots of practice having to explain away the bumps, bruises, and breaks that came with the job. Although, to be honest, it had been a while since Jason had to make excuses to anyone who might give a damn. He stretched his legs, crossing the ankles as he considered the problem.

“Tell them I was practicing tapdancing but was injured when Alfred waxed the floor,” Dick offered.

Jason burst out laughing at the image.

“You might at least come up with something that’s badass,” Wally complained.

Dick looked offended. “Tapdancing _is_ badass.”

Bruce shook his head. “Do you have a better idea, Wally?”

The speedster shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. How about a building collapsed on him while he was saving some kids from a fire? That’s badass.”

“That wouldn’t work,” Tim inserted. “The press would have known about that. There’s no record of Dick suffer any burns or smoke inhalation.”

Jason grinned. “He was texting on his cellphone and fell down some stairs,” he offered up next.

Bruce frowned. “Well, I suppose that _could_ work but . . .”

“But what?” Jason asked. “Makes sense.”

“It does not,” Dick argued. “I’m not that . . .”

“Lame,” Roy finished for him. “Dick’s not that lame.”

“Thanks,” Dick smiled at his friend.

“But, if he had slipped on a banana peel,” Roy snickered.

“Hey!”

“What about a spelunking accident?” Tim suggested.

“You realize that whatever you choose couldn’t have happened in Gotham or Bludhaven,” Bruce said. “In fact, it would be better if whatever happened occurred in another country. It would be little more difficult for the press to fact-check.”

“So, make it a cave in Europe,” Roy shrugged.

Wally spoke up. “What about an accident on the Autobahn?”

Bruce shook his head. “All of these are too easily verified. We don’t want anything that should have made the news either here or there.”

“And I’m a better driver than that,” Dick said, frowning. “No one who knows me would believe that I would wreck one of my bikes.”

“They would if we said you had waxed the seat. You could have slipped off going around a turn,” Jason smirked.

Dick made a face.

Roy laughed. “He could have been on safari in Africa and been caught in a giraffe stampede.”

“He was kidnapped by a gorilla and fell out of tree trying to swing on a vine during his escape!” Wally blurted.

“Racing ostriches,” Jay offered next.

“Enough with the exotic animals,” Bruce interjected as he rubbed his temple.

“Why? No one would question it. Dick was born in a circus, after all,” Jason argued.

“And you were born in a back alley,” Dick told him.

“How’s that worse than an elephant’s stall?” Jason quipped.

Bruce cleared his throat. “All very amusing, but none of those are helpful.”

“Why do we have to tell them anything?” Wally asked.

“Yeah, it’s none of their business,” Roy added.

“Except that Dick is the son of the billionaire playboy-philanthropist, Bruce Wayne,” Tim explained. “He’s the heir-apparent to the prince of Gotham.”

“They’ll want to know,” Bruce confirmed.

Tim looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, there is no question then that we give them what they want.”

Bruce looked at him with suspicion. “You have an idea?”

“I always have an idea,” Tim said, smiling wickedly.

* * *

Bruce lowered Dick’s bed carefully. “You’ve had a busy day today, chum. You look beat. I probably shouldn’t have allowed your friends to stay so long.”

Grimacing at the adjustment, Dick’s back continued to ache. His eyes were drooping already despite the that, however, as the painkillers began working.

“I wanted them here. Say, do you have to put me back in traction tonight?”

“You know better than to ask that. You’re improving a lot, but you aren’t there yet. You need the extra support right now.”

Dick sighed. “When’s the next appointment with Star Labs? Have they come up with anything that will help get Nightwing back on the rooftops?”

Bruce hesitated before answering. “Nothing definite yet. Don’t worry, Dick. No one’s giving up on you. There are still other avenues we have yet to explore.”

“Okay, Bruce. You know best . . .”

Dick closed his eyes so Bruce wouldn’t have to see the disappointment in them, but his hesitation in answering told Dick everything he needed to know.

He wasn’t stupid. If this would have been a regular bone break, Dick would have been already back on his feet and rebuilding his strength by now. The diagnosis and Dr. Midnite’s prognosis he knew already. It was just like Bruce to live in denial and drag Dick along with him. Despite this, Dick had allowed himself to hold on to that hope for two long months because to do otherwise would have driven him insane, but it was time for him to face the facts.

There was no fixing this. No fixing _him_.

Bruce squeezed his hand. “Let me call Alfred and we’ll get you settled in for the night.”

“Sure,” Dick muttered without looking at him.

His eyes were on the wheelchair. That was his future. The last of the flying Graysons was grounded – permanently. That was what was behind the afternoon’s meeting. What to tell the press . . . Bruce had put it off this long because he hadn’t wanted to admit it, but the time came when even The Batman gave up hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REACTIONS??  
> What do you think Tim's plan is? - I won't tell you if you're right here, but if you guess it and later discover you WERE correct, then you have bragging rights.


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